Search Results for heartiste
The We Hunted the Mammoth Pledge Drive is almost over! If you haven’t already, please consider sending some bucks my way. (The PayPal page will say you are donating to Man Boobz.) Thanks!
Heartiste, of the Chateau Heartiste, isn’t just an unending source of ludicrously overcooked, try-hard bromides against fatties, liberals and “vibrants,” his favored term of art for people whose skin isn’t white. No, once in a while the alleged pickup artist actually gives out some advice on how to score with the HBs of the world.
Today, he’s got some amazing advice on how to pick up “red state prole chicks.” Well, “amazing” in the sense that videos of people popping infected cysts using rusty nails in their backyard are “amazing” — that is, gross and wrong but you can’t look away.
Anyway, brace yourself, because the master is about to unload a tip worth its weight in pus:
Here’s the trick, should you find yourself deep in bucolic red territory: Deck yourself out in a piece of clothing or an accessory with insignia that clearly identifies some media, fashion, or arty conglomerate. …
Cute prole girls are salt of the earth, but they love the fantasy of the blue city alpha male with connections and a social calender bursting with fruit flavor. Dat “expert from afar” feel. Wearing something that signals you work for one of those dream companies, true or not, is a honey cock trap for inexperienced naifs.
Huh. I still have an umbrella with the Money magazine logo on it from when I used to work there. (In my defense, it was free.) I had no idea it could be used in HB acquisition.
BRB, booking a flight to Alabama.
WE HUNTED THE MAMMOTH FRIDAY CHALLENGE: Work the phrase “honey cock trap” into conversation.
Pickup guru Heartiste launches innovative “well, you’re ugly and you can’t get laid” campaign against feminists
Fellas, make up your minds! Are feminist ladies wily seductresses out to entrap innocent men using the power of their sexiness? Or are they evil uggos who never get laid?
While the zeta males over at A Voice for Men lament their alleged victimization at the hands of an alleged undercover feminist honey trap, who allegedly lured them into skeezy behavior by, among other things, crossing and uncrossing her legs, our old friend Heartiste once again assures his readers that feminist ladies are icky fugs:
A powerful shiv to the bloated gut of feminism is to remind normal, attractive women of the gross, ugly, and deranged feminist women (and their effete male lackeys) who purport to speak for all women. Women are nothing if not herd followers, and if it’s made clear to the Normal Majority of women that feminists are unbangable fugs no worthwhile man would touch with a manlet’s micropeen, then the herd will change course and leave the losers in its dust.
Hate to break it to you, dude, but you’re not the first person to try to defeat feminism using the brilliant strategy of calling feminists ugly. It never works.
There’s a famous scene in 40 Year Old Virgin where Steve Carrell’s character inadvertently reveals his complete lack of sexual experience with women (not that there’s anything wrong with that) by suggesting that a women’s breast “feels like a bag of sand.”
I sometimes find myself wondering if some of the guys I write about here have ever actually been in the presence of a naked woman. I mean, sure, it’s not really that surprising that a committed vagina-avoider like the legendary Man Going His Own Way known as Christopher in Oregon would write about women in general, and their vaginas in particular, as if they were stinky alien creatures from Planet Yuckygirls.
But it’s a little weirder when someone who claims to be an expert on the female mind and body describes, for example, the human vagina in ways that seem to suggest that he’s never actually been in the same room with one.
The West is like a stupid white girl who goes home with a black guy: Heartiste and his racist fans warn white “ethnomasochists” of the danger of “ebola laced black men.”
Not content with simply being a misogynist piece of poop, the “game” guru Heartiste is also, among other terrible things, a flaming racist given to hyperventilating about the alleged civilization-destroying powers of people with skin darker than his – and the alleged naiveté of white people who aren’t as racist as he is.
In one recent post, Heartiste awarded “freelance comment of the week” status to a racist rant posted on his site by someone calling himself Anton Chigurh, who thinks Western countries are being wimpy about ebola because they don’t want to offend Africans and seem racist.
“Chigurh” made his, er, argument in possibly the most racist manner imaginable:
Pickup guru Heartiste: If a woman rejects you, tell her you weren’t interested anyway so there TOTAL ALPHA MOVE!
Who knew Aesop’s Fables was a pickup bible?
I assume you’re all familiar with Aesop’s story of the fox and the grapes: A fox wants some grapes, but can’t reach them. He walks off in a huff, sniffing that the grapes are probably sour anyway. The moral: “Any fool can despise what he can not get.”
The moral that pickup guru Heartiste draws from the story is a little different. As he sees it, the fox is a super cool alpha male who’s come up with an awesome way to put those slut grapes in their place.
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. One bit of this evidence: 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.
It’s rare that they come out and say it this explicitly, but here’s Heartiste, arguing that unless society treats women badly they won’t give him a boner. In a brief post about “Dread Game” — his term for manipulatively gaslighting women to prey on their insecurities — he offers up this bit of shitbag philosophy:
Dread game on a societal scale keeps women in line, always working hard to please men lest they be cast to the icy wastelands with the rest of the anti-feminine rejects. The opposite of Dread Game — Coddle Game — relaxes selective pressures on women to stay feminine and thin and agreeable. And so what you see now in the decadent, coddling West is what we get: Ballbusting fat feminist cunts and careerist androgynes.
So brave, Heartiste, so brave.
Heartiste hails great leap forward in sexbot technology. Bonus: anatomically improbable kissing and boob simulators!
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 gender and racial makeovers of Thor and Captain America rustle jimmies at The Spearhead and Chateau Heartiste
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:
Can Sluts Fall in Love? Heartiste on “hard sluts” and the difference between emotional and “spermal bonding.”
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.