Category Archives: heartiste
On Popes, PUAs, The Pill and the Alpha Asshole Cock Carousel
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.
Masculine digit ratios, come-hither wickers and careerist shrike tankgrrl females: Heartiste weighs in on the Petraeus scandal
Cats remain unconvinced by Heartiste’s bullshit
“So,” you’re probably thinking to yourself, “I’ve heard a lot of pointless uninformed speculation on the Petraeus affair, but I haven’t yet heard what that PUA douchenozzle who calls himself Heartiste thinks about it all.”
Well, we’re going to rectify this tragic situation right now. Despite not understanding even the most basic facts about the scandal – he refers to “Generals Petraeus and Allen and their Lebanese immigrant, faintly masculine mistresses,” even though the only “mistress” involved in all this seems to be Paula Broadwell, who isn’t of Lebanese descent - Heartiste has produced a 2500-word opus on the subject, with pictures and a graph. So let’s just take a look at the highlights.
“As men, Force is the greatest weapon we have … We must use it,” says racist manosphere asshat.
More thoughts on the election from the Manosphere. These are from the comments section of Chateau Heartiste, in response to that little manifesto from Mark Minter we talked about the other day, and which Minter also posted at the Chateau.
Here John Salt suggests that “force” works better than voting. And, oh yeah, he’s also as racist as Hitler.
Here Sidewinder offers some “optimism” for the future:
You’ll notice that no one there voices opposition to any of these sentiments.
Election Day Open Thread! Plus, some inane crap from Heartiste on the single white woman vote.
Make sure you vote on this crucial ballot initiative.
Election day is here at last! Vote! VOTE!! VOOOTTTTTEEEEE!!!1!!!
Well, if you’re American, anyway.
Americans and non-Americans alike, enjoy these ridiculous thoughts on the Single White Woman Vote from our old pal Heartiste.
[S]ingle women’s prime directive is to fulfill their hypergamous impulse for the highest possible status man they can coax into long-term commitment. The party that is perceived as being pro-unrestricted female sexuality, anti-male sexuality, and anti-drone beta male is going to get their vote.
Heartiste on the evils of women’s suffrage, and why single women tingle for Obama. Or maybe don’t?
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.
Should dating advice be a boys-only club? One self-described Omega Virgin says “yes.”
NOTE: Man Boobz Pledge Week Continues! Big thanks to everyone who has donated!
If you haven’t yet, and want to, here’s the button you’re looking for:
The Men’s Rights blogger behind The Black Pill – formerly known as Omega Virgin Revolt – has made it his life’s mission to bring down the Pickup Artist movement, or at least the part of it that overlaps with the Men’s Rights movement online. Not because “Roissysphere gamers” are misogynist assholes who preach a mixture of manipulation and date-rapery to their readers. But because, in his estimation, these guys are promoting a “Misandrist Dating Advice Distraction (MDAD)” that convinces poor oppressed men that they can solve their problems by manipulating drunk hotties into sleeping with them – thus distracting them from the much more important goal of destroying feminism.
No, really.
Yo, dudes: Alpha males are a myth, according to actual experts on wolves
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:
Heartiste: Women athletes are mannish uggos because “women’s natural bodies are not evolutionarily designed to run, throw, fight or lift optimally.”
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.”
Heartiste: Chris Brown is a great role model for wannabe alpha males
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.
Heartiste: Funny like a clown
Heartiste: A sad clown
Always hilarious: painfully unfunny dudes explaining how women just aren’t funny. Over on Chateau Heartiste, the Heartiste formerly known as Roissy drops some (pseudo) SCIENCE on us all:
[C] hicks dig male status, dominance and personality as much as, or more than, they dig male looks. Men, on the other hand, dig beauty first and foremost, and a woman’s comedic timing, however it might make a man laugh, won’t stir his schnitzel if she’s a dog.
Since women don’t see a benefit from humor in the competition to attract men, their sex, on average when compared to men, has not evolved a strong cortical humor module. Women are better equipped to appreciate humor than they are to produce humor.
Apparently, if you use the same words that scientists use – like “cortical” and “module” – that makes it true!
But there is more to this Old Misogynist’s Tale. As Heartiste explains, it’s cruel humor that women appreciate most of all — in their lady regions. In other words, chicks like dicks:
[W]omen become sexually aroused by men who expertly wield the soulkilling shiv of sadism. …
Cruelty that is delivered with supreme confidence, bemused detachment, and eviscerating precision is catnip to women’s kitties.
Get it? Kitties = pussies = VAGINAS.
Ba-dump-tssh! Heartiste is on a roll.
So let’s see some examples of the sort of masterfully eviscerating humor that makes the ladies weak in their knees and gets their “kitties” excited. (Note: By kitties I am, like Heartiste, referring to vaginas. Exciting a woman’s actual kitties is better done with shiny objects and mouse-shaped toys.)
Anyway, here are some of Heartiste’s examples of cruel humor at its most exquisite, which he has helpfully rendered in dialogue form:
Me: Sweetcheeks, look. That bum just winked at you. He wants to take you back to his cardboard box. [waving at bum] Hi, bum!
Her: [struggling to conceal a grin] Shh, stop that. Stop waving. You’re horrible.
Truly, bum-mockery at its finest.
But he’s only getting started:
Me: You want to take a bus? Forget it. [nodding in direction of obese woman] She ate it.
Her: [looking heavenward] Oh my god, I can’t believe you just said that.
Aw yeah. Suggesting that a fat person has just eaten something comically large: comedy gold!
After some further jests on the topics of male boobs (hmm), the size of black men’s cocks, and raping the disabled (yes, really), our hero is in like Flynn, well on his way to all-caps “TRIUMPHAL SEX.”
The way it will usually go down is like this: You revel in your cruelty. She reacts with manufactured disapproval, often stifling laughter. Her vagina moistens. A wave of hidden shame releases a continuous flow of blood to her vaginal walls, maintaining her in a semi-aroused state all day long. Later that night, the floodgates open and you slip in like a lubed eel.
Yipes. That is about as erotic as Gilbert Gottfried reading from 50 Shades of Grey.
I’m pretty sure the only reason Heartiste can maintain his belief that women can’t do cruel humor themselves is that he’s never heard what they say about him once he leaves the room.
