PREVIOUSLY: Part One

Fast forward three days later. The memory of the Mexican girl is fading and I’m in my top bunk trying to get over a bad cold when a Brazilian girl checks in.

I thoroughly checked her out while she was bending over to store her things and deemed her nothing special. The Mexican girl had a better overall face and body, but of course the Brazilian had a better ass.

I found out later that night she doesn’t speak any English, so I took it as an opportunity to practice my Portuguese. She was nice and allowed me to mangle her language while correcting my horrible pronunciation, and since so few gringos speak Portuguese I earned 1,000 bonus points for being able to communicate in her native tongue. During our conversation I concluded that her appearance was homely but not ugly—she was simply a plain girl you’d see anywhere, not worth a second look if you caught sight of her on the street.

While we talked I noticed she had a peculiar stare. She’d squint her eyes ever so slightly and part her lips just a hair, a sensual look you’d expect during intimacy and not in a casual conversation. I like to think this was an unconscious gesture on her part and not something to “game” me, but then again at some point in her life she must’ve realized that it has an effect on real men.

She asked me if I was going out and I told her I was going to be a loser and stay in, as the next day I was meeting an old flame and wanted to be as vigorous as possible for the sex that would likely ensue. She then began to get ready, and like a caterpillar morphing into a butterfly, she literally transformed.

First she showered her body. Her hair stayed dry in it’s already perfect state, long to the small of her back, soft and feathery like you’d see in a Pantene Pro-V shampoo commercial. After changing in a short black dress that came halfway up her thighs, she escaped to the bathroom with a brush and returned ten minutes later, suggesting that hair like hers is no trivial matter to maintain. I don’t think she’ll ever get an ugly bob cut like an American girl, who works forty hours a week pushing papers that contribute nothing to the progress of the world but is too lazy to spend a few extra minutes a day on her hair.

She then got out her compact and began applying makeup. She put on a dark rouge to stand out against her olive skin, glossy lipstick to match, and thick eyeliner which made her eyes look twice as big. You can imagine what that did to her stare and it’s here I noticed that my breathing picked up in speed. She slipped into five-inch heels that highlighted her freshly painted toenails, a bold orange color that matched her fingernails, so fresh in appearance it had to have been done just a day or two prior. I really have no idea how she could walk in those heels but she made it look effortless, like she practiced often starting from a young age. If they killed her feet I doubt she would let a man know.

(Speaking of heels, not once have I seen a Brazilian girl take off her heels and then put on sneakers for the bus or subway ride home after work. It’s because they don’t do things that purposefully make them look like an idiot. If you can’t wear attractive footwear because they hurt your feet or are hard to walk in, then maybe you should get a stay-at-home job instead of embarrassing yourself in public. Either do it right or don’t do it at all.)

She walked in and out of the dorm room to the bathroom, and the girl I witnessed earlier in the day was gone, replaced by this sexual creature I’d do all that I could to bang. I’d happily spend hours in the club with her, dancing, touching, and drinking for a chance to violate her body. I believe any man would. While her genetic appearance was only average, she has figured out that by maximizing her look she can gain the attentions of men like myself who resist chasing average women. It’s true that my interest may not carry over after sex, but at least she has a chance at hooking a man, for a woman who can’t even get sexual attention is already dead in the water. Tight game for men is words and a cocky attitude, while for women it’s looks and a playful attitude. I don’t know why this is so hard for Westerners to understand.

The Brazilian girl didn’t leave right away—she had to wait for a friend who was staying in the bunk above hers to return. She sat down on her bed and then very slowly and deliberately started putting lotion on her long legs. They did not have mosquito bites or mountain bike bruises and cuts like the gringas in the dorm next door. By now I’ve already run out of my good Portuguese and had nothing more to say, frustrating to a man who in English can talk to a wall for five hours nonstop without interruption.

She’s stroking her legs and I’m catching this from the corner of my eye, rubbing my beard roughly at the torture I was witnessing. Then she does the inexplicable: she lays down on her bed while dangling her legs and feet (heels still on) over the bunk’s wooden ledge. Her dress snaked down to the very top of her thigh where it meets with her body and only two more inches until her vagina would be in plain view. Her hair is splayed across the bed and she’s inspecting her finger nails and it got too hot for me so I stopped out for a couple minutes to get some air. She left soon after.

The next day she looked average again but I saw her differently. Loose jeans covered her body but I didn’t forget the ass in the black skirt that bent over to retrieve feminine hygiene products from the locker. She had a plain t-shirt on but I didn’t forget the way her back curves into the meaty part of her hips. Her hair was up in a bun but I could still pick apart its thickness and length. My attraction for her didn’t decrease because I knew in a couple hours time she’d transform back to what aroused me.

Here’s a business idea for a Brazilian woman out there: write a book called “Why Brazilian Women Get All The Men,” in the spirit of “French Women Don’t Get Fat.” Teach Western girls to look their best at all times, to know how to maintain eye contact with a man, how to move, how to properly laugh at a man’s jokes, and how to exercise the ass. An entire chapter must be dedicated to ass exercises. Teach them to forget about being witty or snarky or funny or “intelligent,” as those things decrease attraction instead of increasing it. Teach them well so that when I go to an American bar I don’t see average girls with chipped nail polish, flip flops, masculine movements, and a generally sloppy appearance—I see a sexual creature that I want to get to know, possibly for more than one night.

Jersey Shore is a brilliant anthropological look at modern game because it puts together a bunch of shallow, horny people who love to go out and hook up. Compare this to the typical Real World snoozefest where you have more “balanced” characters like the emo doofus who couldn’t pick up a girl if his life depended on it and the angry black man who is more interested in debating than getting laid.

I would like to rate the game of the four guys who are on the show, from worst to best.

4. Vinny

This guy added very little value. No one hated him, no one loved him, and he merely existed to make an occasional comment that got token laughter, feeding off the others instead of getting his own vibe pushed into the storyline. His energy wasn’t bad and I actually didn’t mind his fist pumps in the club but he never seemed to make a play on any decent girl. The first girl he hooked up with was his boss’ girl and then he tried to go for his roommate’s sister. This is what guys with no game do—shit where they eat. And then his Atlantic City bitch gets embarrassingly ganked by Mike, who shouldn’t be faulted for it because he knew like I knew that Vinny had zero hope of sealing the deal. His main purpose is to fill up space.

Bottom Line: Vinny has no game. He needs to take a workshop or something, but then again he’s only 21. I’m sure he’ll be fine in a few years.

3. Ronnie

Ronnie was almost as boring as Vinny. He lacked Mike’s charm and wit and was always logical, complaining about nonsense or calling out someone for trivial matters instead of playing the diplomat. His cackle laugh is obnoxious and fake but he does have the ability to crack a decent joke every now and then. The basic strategy of his game is to show up looking “fresh,” do that crunk dance he learned from watching Rize, and then not open his mouth too much.

Most of the work in getting laid for him is indeed his muscles and hair. This was obvious when Sammi repeatedly said how “hot” he was, and initially with her it wasn’t his personality that did the heavy lifting. His energy in the club is good with his dance moves and because he’s laid back without showing too much interest I’m pretty sure he has banged a few girls in the past.

Unfortunately there is heavy degradation to his game once he gets into a relationship. He kept saying gag-on-a-spoon things stitched together from bad movies like, “I thought the shore was the best thing to happen to me….. but you are,” and “I don’t know what it is about you, but I could kiss you all day.” But since these dumb lines come after sex, I wonder how much it really affects his pussy-getting ability.

Even though I’m sure Ronnie would demolish me in a fight, he came across as a needy little bitch, chasing around Sammi who’s only somewhat decent after fixing herself up for three hours. She had the ham arms, a lackluster buddy, and the most annoying personality on the show.

Bottom Line: His game is only looks, and with that he can only get stupid girls who are less pretty than he is handsome.

2. Pauly D

Pauly has the elements of tight game simmering somewhere underneath. There is no reason he shouldn’t pull every night but frankly he was unable to live up to his potential. He needs to look alive, lower his standards a bit, and approach more instead of waiting for Mike to get shit going. In fact for most of the show he basically rode Mike’s coattails. Otherwise he’s cool, aloof, knows how to dance, has interesting hobbies to bring up in conversation, and is cocky but not too cocky where it borders on caricature like Mike. These selected Pauly quotes reveal that his mind is in the right place:

“I’m just trying to roll with it.”

“I have a game plan… I don’t want to waste my time.”

“My girl was fucking busted… I was just trying to go with the flow.”

His constant talk about high standards is probably bullshit because he did put in a significant amount of time into the Israeli girl who was mediocre at best. I find that guys who constantly harp on standards usually use it as an excuse to not approach, as you always see them later with average girls. Mike has lower standards but with the sheer quantity of girls he’s getting with it’s a guarantee that a hot girl will slip into the rotation every now and then.

One important thing Pauly needs to do is be more persistent. He had J-Wow on his bed peeping at his cock but he didn’t even try to get her shirt off or play with her boobs. I know she had a boyfriend at the time and probably wouldn’t fuck them that night, but his chill vibe may be a little too chill, and he needs to give a damn when it’s time to close the deal.

Bottom Line: Pauly has the right mindset and some good moves but he needs to step up in order to realize his true potential.

1. Mike “The Situation”

You gotta admit that Mike has personality and charm. Sure he’s cheesy and over-the-top, but behind his outrageous cockiness there is a wink and a nod that it’s a tough guy act and he’s an alright cat behind that. Now while he is very good at building attraction, it’s obvious that he has a tough time closing the deal. One of the reasons it that he was way too obsessed with that fucking jacuzzi. Bro you use the jacuzzi to get them to your house but once there say it’s broken. Man has gotten laid well before the jacuzzi and will continue to do so if jacuzzis cease to exist. There was also the big late-game mistake he made when he ordered greasy pizza with the sluts he brought home, an amateur move usually played by guys who just graduated from college.

For some reason he counts his chickens before they hatch, having a “I’ll fuck her when I want” mindset that obviously doesn’t work. Still, I think he has the right attitude with girls that he just wants to sleep with as he even admitted many times that it’s a numbers game. He probably did get rejected the most on the show (let’s give him a pass on that embarrassing bitterness business with Sammi), but then again he kissed the most girls and had the most bangs. In the end it’s the results that matter as there are no style points in fucking.

The fact that he banged that cute girl raw dog in the jacuzzi should leave no doubt that he’s a true player. Gotta get that notch no matter what!

Bottom Line: Mike is charismatic, fun, and has the right game mindset, though he could tighten up his deal-sealing technique. Despite his gay stripper vibe he was the most consistent and therefore has the best game.

Note how the guys had a “whatever” attitude towards phone numbers. They’re all about the same night and if you want to fuck a lot of girls then that’s how it’s done.

One of the reasons I enjoyed this show is because it reminded me of how Virgle Kent and I run game in D.C. While the background and people are different, the elements are the same: same-night pulls, grenade jumping, street game, muscles, random make-outs, alcohol-fueled drama, fights, stalking, cockblocking, and so on. I especially enjoyed the scenes where the guys extracted girls back to the house because it’s there I could identify a lot of mistakes they were making when it came time to close, a couple of which I mentioned above.

In a bar you can have a dozen girls thinking about banging you but if you don’t have a plan to ease just one away from the friends into a bedroom then you won’t get a lot of bangs. The first part of learning game is about building attraction, but then you have to master logistics, of being persistent and cool in herding her to the bedroom. Otherwise you’ll just have a stack of phone numbers.

For the most part the guys on the show have the attraction part nailed, but it’s the logistics that cost them quite a few notches. Divide and conquer, isolate and bang. When building attraction becomes automatic for you, the game becomes one of timing and logistics.

My roommate from Denmark was locked out of his room the other day and waited in the kitchen for the landlord to deliver a spare key. I cooked dinner in the meanwhile and we got to talking. At some point he asked me, “Why are you here?”

—

“Everyone keeps asking me that and I wish I had a quick, powerful answer, but it comes down to two things: wanting to explore, something I think most men want to do, and wanting to get away from the American way of life. I really can’t say which one motivates me more to be here.

“In America you go to college, which you’re told is supposed to be the most fun years of life, and then you get a job taking orders from some pencil dick in this grand mission to chase money and accumulate stuff. I don’t need stuff—all I need in life is a laptop and good speakers. I’ll be happy anywhere because it’ll keep me busy. I can write, read, listen to music, stay in touch with friends and family… I don’t need more than that. Now I date girls young enough who think that type of lifestyle is ‘cool,’ but if I ever want to have a family some day I’ll probably have to make some changes.

“I don’t want to work 40 hours a week doing the same thing to be insulted with a 3% raise and a pat on the head every year. I don’t want to count down the days to the weekend where I punish my liver because my week was so lifeless. I don’t want to wait until Saturday to take a book to a coffee shop and lose track of time. In college they should sit you down on your first day and say: ‘Ladies and gentleman, your mission in life is to make the days of the week irrelevant.’ What day is today? I don’t know. Days of the week are bar and club names for me now, places I know are good. Sunday: Casa Rosa. Wednesday: Casa da Matriz. Thursday: Democratica. Saturday: Rio Scenarium. I feel like I’ve made it because I don’t care what day it is.

“Americans are lazy but they’re not. When it comes to money they’ll work like fucking mules. You’ll never see someone put in as many hours as an American, kiss ass like an American. They’ll do anything to make that extra dollar to get that plasma television or dine in some frou-frou restaurant that got a good review by some idiot on the internet. They’ll grin and take it in the ass when the boss asks them to stay in on Saturday morning a month before performance reviews are due. They will work and barely complain when you tell them they can’t take a long vacation. Hell, even if you give them a lot of time off they wouldn’t know what to do with it. They’ll take a trip to the Caribbean or some pre-programmed cruise to be trapped with a bunch of whales, one handshake from projectile diarrhea.

“When it comes to anything else Americans don’t want to lift a finger. I mean look at heath care. Americans think it’s pills and MRIs. Why aren’t many people connecting the dots between the American diet and health care? Americans eat like pigs, look like pigs, get sick with diabetes, heart disease, god knows what else, and then complain that health care is too expensive. Their lifestyle makes it expensive. Don’t get me wrong I believe the government should provide free health care for its citizens, but exercising four times a week is my health care. Eating vegetables, cooking all my meals, avoiding junk food, drugs, stress—that’s my health care. I probably spend more hours a week on my health than on making money. Americans don’t cook or simply take care of themselves because they’re too tired from making money. They want to pop pills with side effects to keep eating ‘comfort’ food and sit on their asses. After putting in a tough eight hours or more with the man that’s all they have the energy to do.

“And the women… ‘I don’t need a man. I’m independent. I don’t need a man, I got my own money, my own job. I don’t need a man.’ The result is that an American girl thinks it’s weakness to show a man how much she needs him. I don’t know if you had a corporate job in Denmark, but dating an American woman is like dealing with coworkers. They’re very careful with what they say. Every laugh is meticulously orchestrated—she must’ve laugh too hard now or you may think she thinks you’re funny. Every word’s use was analyzed and judged—she mustn’t show too much interest because that’s weakness. ‘Shit I just showed too much interest I have to be cold now—let me make fun of him about something.’ I’m lucky I’ve spent enough time down here to know that that simply isn’t real. That’s not how women, as in women of the human race, really are. Those American girls are basically programmed to be more distant than their nature. And they wonder why they’re so unhappy. Nature is a powerful thing, and you’ll always lose when you go against it.

“The other night I went out with this Brazilian girl. Very cute girl, a few years younger than me. It was our second date and we went out to some gringo bar and after our first drink she looks at me and says, ‘If you were leaving back to America right now, I’d come with you. I’d take a chance and do it.’ Other Brazilian girls have done and said similar ‘weak’ things, and Colombian girls as well. And that’s real, because the nature of a woman is she needs a man. These girls here understand that. They don’t hide it, and I don’t punish them for it. A girl that knows she needs a man, that that’s the point of her existence, will treat men very well. She’ll pleasure him, make him happy, hold onto him a little tighter at night. You think an American girl will ever say something like that?! If I tell an American girl some of the things that the girls down here have said to me, she’ll be shocked, ‘But but that goes against the book! They’re showing too much interest! They’re showing weakness!’

“You remember that American girl I brought back a couple weeks ago? Okay I know I’m in Brazil and fucking an American girl looks bad, but truth is American girls have become perfectly designed for easy, meaningless sex. It’s like one step above jerking off… no emotions, just business—like getting with a prostitute. It takes just three hours to get them in bed, and you’re fucking her for the first time and she says cunt this, cock that, like she’s in a porno movie, because she watches that too. I just met the bitch and she’s moaning that she likes how much I’m beating her pussy up! Look that’s fun, like how jerking off with your left hand is fun, but it’s not normal. A normal girl will be quiet the first time, will be self-conscious, will wonder if she’s pleasing you properly or not.

“The Western culture has broken the women. A girl wakes up and she’s 30 and has no man and no hope for a man, yet she already passed on several who didn’t give her the tinglies or butterflies in her stomach or whatever the fuck term she uses. Because of course the culture gave them this sense of entitlement as well, to think that with mediocre looks and ten extra pounds they can get a hot stud like they see in the magazines in line at the grocery store. And then they get old and have to compete with younger and prettier girls. They can’t win. They won’t. So what do they do? They throw themselves on young guys who still value older women as ‘experienced’ and ‘mature.’ But those guys age and get a clue, and then you see the woman going on 40, working hard at the gym, desperately trying to fight the sag, bragging that she fucked this college guy. What a miserable existence.

“My parents aren’t American but in the end I’m a product of that culture and it takes a lot of time and effort to fight the programming —to do what nature intended you to do. Unfortunately I think I’ll always be tethered to America. My family is there and I can’t even talk to my mom on the phone without her guilting me into coming back and taking care of her, even though she doesn’t need taken care of. I don’t know… I’m going to go back and the first month is going to be great with my family, and my friends, and then after that they’ll be nothing for me. I don’t fit in there, and I don’t exactly fit in anywhere else either. What am I going to do in the States—get an American girlfriend? Get a 9-5? Fuck that. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Modern society has warped what it means to be a real man. The result is you have “men” who are successful on paper, who have a house, some money, respectable wardrobe, stylish furniture, and fine tastes, yet they can’t get laid with a beautiful woman. I don’t have to remind you of the hogs that a lot of men are carrying around on their arms in public, a sort of reverse natural selection that our feminizing culture is allowing. I have thought long and hard about all the qualities that make a real man, and have determined that only two are absolutely essential.

1. Ability to get laid at will. If you can’t get laid with multiple women, you’re not a real man, plain and simple. If you can’t mate with superior genes then you’re a blight on the human condition, and should be euthanized. What else is there more important to human existence than fucking? Nothing.

There was a time when I couldn’t get laid, when I was a useless parasite on the world, but then I learned and now I am spreading my seed on multiple continents. It’s true I have not had children (as far as I know), but with a flip of a switch this can be accomplished easily. In all likelihood my human destiny will be accidentally achieved rather soon.

2. Personal strength. Can you defend your lifeblood if the shit really hits the fan? Can you protect yourself against an attacker? Otherwise you are not a real man. Personal strength comes in two forms: the confidence to make a stand and the physical apparatus to carry it out. If you fall over at the slightest breeze then are you not suitable for life, and should be terminated. If I can wrap my thumb and index finger around your bicep then you a decaying organism that would perish without the nanny state to keep you safe and warm. While I am not a meathead, I am prepared to fight to the death if my being is threatened or questioned.

Real men are made, not born. If you choose not to be a real man, but instead a half-man like 90% of Western males, then you don’t deserve the benefits that come with it—sex and respect. I cannot imagine living life without either.

These women are bringing a child into the world (because god knows we need more) with the knowledge that he or she will be more fucked up than the general population. Studies show that raising a child alone is the worst thing you can do to a human being, especially if that human is male. Is the woman going to teach her son how to stand up for himself? Is she going to teach him how to be attractive to women and then bang lots of them, like his genetics dictate? Is she going to give him the self-confidence to carve his own path in life? Is she going to teach him how to beat someone in the face? No, no, no, and no.

My parents divorced when I was 8, and for the next twelve years or so I visited my dad two nights a week. So when I got out of college, I was only 30% man. With much time, determination, and sex with different women, I have been able to become 99% man (yeah, I like myself a good snuggle from time to time), but it would have been a hell of a lot easier if I had a constant male influence in my life. Unfortunately many guys have been raised by their fathers but they might as well be fatherless—their dads didn’t teach them shit, sometimes because they didn’t quite know how to be a man themselves. This has happened because Western society has not demanded that men act like men.

I got to see a sad example of single motherdom in Pipa, Brazil, a small beach town in the Northern coast. There was an Italian mother and her 8-year-old boy traveling with the grandmother and aunt. Three women, zero men. They put a long rainbow-colored tassel in his almost shoulder-length hair and a piece of woven jewelry around his tiny ankle. They indulged his every whine without teaching him things like sports, play fighting, and smashing objects. He copied their feminine ways of speaking and the poolside sight of my hairy body nearly scared him to death—he literally trembled with fear like someone had dropped him into the lion sanctuary at the zoo. I’m absolutely certain this adorable little boy will be a huge fag when he gets older. Now how is that not child abuse?

While there’s nothing wrong with being gay (except the doing it in each other’s butts part), you must accept that homosexuality is on the deviant side of nature. The Italian mother was actually married when she had the future sausage jockey, but many Western women who have failed in love will be having kids using sperm donors. These self-absorbed women do not care that they are destroying a human life as long as they can attempt to relieve the immense emptiness in their lives, caused by chasing that cheddar in the corporate office instead of pleasing a real man who could fertilize her BPA-tainted eggs with a child. Thanks to their actions, society will be filled with a billion gays who wear tassels in their hair. And guys like myself will have the burden of having a lot of sex with the remaining women who are still wired to want a man who treats them like shit.

I guess this is all working out quite well for me then.

I like teaching women lessons because I want to make the world a better place for men everywhere. If you got bitched by a girl but didn’t bitch her back then you’ve fucked over another man. Now he is going to have to deal with that same shit in the future since you didn’t take care of it.

Cockblocking is a good example. There are guys who don’t do anything when they get disrespected by the rude girlfriends, only ensuring that the behavior continues. Because of how I’ve handled these situations, I’m confident that I’ve stopped many cockblocks for guys in D.C. who I don’t even know.

Along this theme I want to commend Joe Francis, the owner of Girls Gone Wild, for teaching a lesson that has changed the life of a girl who made a grave mistake. If you aren’t already familiar with Joe Francis he’s known for being a dick. Check out this article from a couple years back.

Francis told the cameraman to leave and pushed her back on the bed, undid his jeans and climbed on top of her. “I told him it hurt, and he kept doing it. And I keep telling him it hurts. I said, ‘No’ twice in the beginning, and during I started saying, ‘Oh, my god, it hurts.’ I kept telling him it hurt, but he kept going, and he said he was sorry but kissed me so I wouldn’t keep talking.”

Rape or just proper bedroom technique? Scientific surveys says that 90% of rape accusations are fake, used by women to get attention or to annul slutty behavior. You should be even more skeptical of rape claims against a notorious celebrity.

Actually has a male celebrity ever been successfully charged with rape? With fame-obsessed women throwing their vaginas on them the last thing they need to do is coerce themselves on a groupie. For example if I ever get accused of rape then you know it’s bullshit.

Alright back to the lesson. Joe Francis was at a club recently talking to a random girl. That girl’s friend was model Jayde Nicole, who for whatever reason didn’t like what Joe said or did. Later while he was walking through the club alone, Jayde poured a shot on Joe’s shoulder. He then turned around, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and pulled as hard as he could, dragging her on the floor. Click here to watch the video of this incident.

And here’s a picture of the model:

Let’s do a little blow-by-blow:

0:07: Joe is walking through the club. Jayde sees him and outstretches her arm to get ready for the pour.

0:11: The shot is dumped on Joe’s shoulder.

0:13: Stunned, Joe looks around to see who grievously insulted him while Jayde retreats back to the bar trying to play off her involvement.

0:15: With a face full of fury, Joe grabs Jayde’s hair and pulls with all his might.

0:19: Joe gets jumped by men trying to defend the attacker’s honor.

0:30: Jayde stands stunned by the bar and needs to be consoled by friends. I have a feeling she didn’t expect his reaction.

1:02: Jayde is boo-hoo-hooing uncontrollably at the bar. Her friends are stroking her now-mangled coif.

Here’s what I think of the situation:

Bitch deserved it..

You can argue whether or not the punishment fit the crime, but as he did no permanent damage to her I think his response was more reasonable than not. It’s not like he pulled a Mark Wahlberg and blinded a man in an unprovoked racist attack.

If you don’t agree then I’m afraid you’re still drinking the feminist koolaid that teaches men that it’s always “wrong to hit a women.” Well it’s not always wrong to hit a woman. As a man who’s been pushed to the edge, I’m stunned at how deft women are at inciting violence, even when you’re warned them repeatedly to simmer down. I believe some women want you to hit them because they want to see you care, especially if you have an aloof, hard-to-read nature.

Do think Jayde would have attacked a man like that in a Middle Eastern country? Hell no because she knows she’d be murdered. I’m definitely not saying that’s what we need, but our culture has taught women that they can disrespect men without repercussion, and has taught men to accept that disrespect like little punks. Well there are men who haven’t bought that view and are making the world a better place by teaching women like Jayde that you can’t go around attacking men. I guarantee you she will never pour a shot on a man again in her life.

A random comment I made on the blog In Mala Fide has made the rounds a bit. It was in reference to the “Men’s Rights” blogs and forums that I notice popping up everywhere. Here’s the comment:

I’m not against Men’s Rights, but a lot of these blogs are written by guys who have no game and can’t get laid, and serve as just an outlet for being a lifelong sexual loser. It’s like women who get around in their circles to complain about about how men aren’t sensitive or caring enough.

These guys dedicate their time to complaining about feminists or marriage, yet they have zero experience with either! I suspect they are anti-social, bitter virgins who simply don’t have anything else to do with their bountiful free time, too fearful of putting their fragile ego on the line to be a man and actually get laid. They have draining corporate gigs and the only thing they have to look forward to are weekly visits to Chipotle Mexican Grill.

In fact you will not go wrong in life by not listening to a man who can’t get laid. He can be very intelligent but his thoughts are not based on the “real world” where there are guys banging and traveling and starting businesses and having a good time with life. Thinking without doing is nothing but masturbation, something that I suspect these MR bloggers do a lot of.

Now I want you to brace yourself for what I’m about to tell you.

You braced?

A lot of guys in the Men’s Rights community do not believe that game works. Yeah I spit out my vitamin water on the monitor too.

Don’t believe me? Try wallowing through these threads:

Is the “PUA” approach to women valid?

Why the PUAs are winning

(This is a good opportunity to gripe about the misuse of the acronym PUA. It stands for pick-up artist, which is a man who uses the art of game to pick up women. If you say, “I don’t know if I believe in PUA,” you’re saying “I don’t know if I believe in pick-up artist.” That doesn’t make sense. Game is a philosophy (or lifestyle) that is mastered by guys who can be called pick-up artists or players or whatever. I prefer the player term, though it doesn’t seem to be popular among white males.)

Pretend you’re me for a second, and you’ve read comment after comment by guys who don’t believe in game, when you yourself have made a complete 180 because of it. What further proof can I offer than myself, a sexless wonder who started getting laid only after studying and practicing game?

Unfortunately no proof is enough for Men’s Rights followers. I can film my pickups from start to end, using several lines that are word-for-word what you can find here or in Bang, film the resulting three-minute sex act and declarations of affection from the girl, and they’ll still find some way to rationalize that I’m not using game at all. They’ll say I’m a natural, when they don’t understand I’ve been working on my game every week for going on nine years.

They’ll say, “Roosh is naturally funny, or charming, or okay looking. I’m sure he would do well even without game.” Wrong. I’m “funny” because I’ve practiced my jokes on hundreds of girls. I’m “charming” because I’ve measured the reactions of women to see what works and what doesn’t, and kept only that which got the result I wanted. I’m “okay looking” because I work out, tried different styles, learned how to carry myself, and have rigorously experimented with different hair and beard configurations. I can tell you right now where a Jesus haircut would work well for me versus a hipster shag cut.

If you see me pick up today it does look very natural because I’ve integrated all these game component parts into something fluid that works a good percentage of the time, but there was absolutely nothing fluid about my initial attempts to overcome my inability to get laid.

I don’t hide from you guys that I’ve been rejected a million times. Of course I still get rejected to this day, by girls who for some odd reason don’t want to bang me. If you’ve read A Dead Bat In Paraguay you saw how bad it can get. But I’m very open to learning, and I continue to do so no matter how satisfied I’ve become with where I’m at. For example I used the lessons from those tough six months in South America to come to Colombia and do pretty well with the women. In fact I almost wish I had more troubles so that I would have a “problem” to base a sequel on. But there are none, and I know no one wants to read a memoir about a guy who is happy and getting what he wants.

Then the Men’s Rights guys will say, “But he is SELLING books.”

Yes because anyone who’s passionate enough about a topic to spend months or years to compile their life experiences into works that teach others cannot be trusted. If someone has written a book or produced anything of value, do not listen to them! They’re ruthless businessmen in disguise! I wouldn’t even listen to someone who has a blog because they’re obviously doing it for the fame of receiving many visitors or comments (and in the case of male bloggers, groupies). Or else they would simply maintain a diary that rests inside their nightstand. They blog mainly for their ego. Same for people who post on the same forums for years. They have an ulterior motive of wanting to feel special in knowing that other people respect their four-digit post count and are getting something out of their words.

In fact if you think about it, anyone who shares knowledge is suspect. Lately I only gain knowledge from homeless men who talk outloud to themselves because they’re not doing it for money, fame, ego, attention or any type of satisfaction that comes from helping others. Approach anyone else’s words with extreme hesitation.

Hyperbole aside, all men can learn and improve, whether it’s in business, women, sports, or Chinese checkers. To think that getting laid is genetically determined and that you can’t improve—what a horrible way to live! If I had to accept my lot I would probably be in some shitty job not getting laid and feeling miserable about how “unlucky” I am while complaining about how much women suck. I would be a Men’s Rights follower. I would camp out on blogs and forums all day posting “intellectual” comments for other guys who are socially awkward because they are too scared to step away from the computer monitor for one minute and take some social risk by practicing conversation with attractive women.

But if you tell them, “Bro, you need to approach a girl and get some action,” they’ll say, “Stop using shaming language on me!” That’s their comeback. It’s like a little boy on the playground saying, “Don’t make fun of me! I like eating my boogers!” For guys who supposedly love using logic, they are completely unable to properly defend their lack of action, and have insulated themselves in a protective internet bubble where they gang up on the slightest bit of dissent by saying it makes them feel ashamed. They can’t get laid, they supposedly don’t like women (especially Western women) and don’t want to work to bang them, yet they whine and bitch about women all day long.

Now I’ve whined and bitched about women plenty on this blog, and I think it’s especially fun to get on feminsts and American women, but at the end of the day I’m also banging feminists and American women, drinking with them, having a laugh with them, and cuddling with them until I get bored and need a break from their sense of entitlement and masculine attitudes. Variety is the spice of life and the reason you’re reading me right now is because of the wide range of experiences I’ve had with many different types of women. While I wouldn’t mind being a one-hit-wonder by wearing my plaid shirt every night and going to a hipster bar in D.C. to get laid with minimal effort, there wouldn’t be much advice I can share for men of the world.

The bottom line is that a real man puts himself in new, challenging environments and pushes the limits of his ability and character to get what he truly desires. I greatly admire the 21-year-old who goes onto my forum and posts about a brutal rejection, but perserveres and weeks later shares a success story. I admire the three guys I met in Medellin who all rolled up with little Spanish but got their flags in less than two weeks after approaching like machines day and night. I admire the guy who I saw do his first ever bookstore approach and get a long-term girlfriend out of it. You think they give a shit about Men’s Rights? No, because they use game to get laid with the women they want. They believe in action to accomplish their goals, not mental masturbation with a bunch of guys who have trouble telling you what a vagina feels like, yet can’t stop obsessing over it.

There has to be something to explain why American women are so much more undatable compared to their foreign counterparts. As you may have heard, American women are great for meaningless sex, but horrible for long-term relationships. To live out your days with a woman who attends to your most primal of needs, it would be foolhardly to land an American girl.

American women get their unique behavior from culture. This includes televison, higher education, corporate wage slavery, and the trappings of consumerism. Our culture teaches women that they are equal to men and can achieve anything that men can achieve. I’m not going to argue whether this is true or not (it’s not), but what must logically follow? That women become like men. Here is the consequence:

You will see that the American woman has aquired what I call the Essence Of Man. Her neverending quest for equality has indeed worked, for a part of a man’s brain has sprouted inside their own. Understand: American women are hermaphroditic when it comes to their behavior, personality, and attitude. When you date an American woman, you are dating a part-man and not a true woman. For that you actually need to go abroad.

The American culture, unfortunately, is in the process of exporting (i.e. polluting) other nations. It’s just a matter of time until the Brazilian girl, for example, is corrupted with similar thoughts of equality and masculinity. Already in some of their brains, especially upper class Brazilian girls, you may have an Essence Of Man speck—just a little area of degeneration that flares up every now and then like a stubborn cyst, but nothing that warrants emergency attention. The American woman is infected with an uncurable metastatic cancer. The doctor can only offer palliative care.

When a man leans over to the feminine side, as we saw with the somewhat recent metrosexual trend, his sexuality is rightfully questioned. But when a woman leans over the masculine side, she’s praised as independent, ambitious, and strong—a go-getter who successfully “made” it. Every now you’ll find a man who wants those latter qualities in a woman, and it’s because something perverse has happened: the American culture has masculized the woman and feminized the man. It has caused the man to seek out qualities that for millenia were exclusively desired by females. Within his brain is the Essence Of Woman.

For those of you in DC who want to check out Brazilian girls, I got the event for you.

Gal Costa, a famous Brazilian singer, is playing at George Washington on November 1. Tickets prices seem reasonable, and I’d go if I was in D.C. The pre-sale code is BRAZIL.

Here is a sampling of her music…

Pretty loungey.

This is probably the worst type of event to meet girls, but for a few hours you can enjoy the beautiful language and pretend you’re cultured. And hey, maybe you can get yourself invited to an after party.

Let’s start with the good. The premise of using a game show to tell a story is excellent. In terms of device effectiveness it approaches “Rosebud” in Citizen Cane. It’s the execution, in the form of a horrible script, that makes it a stupid movie.

Minor Problems

-Plays into every single poverty stereotype known to man. This is no surprise since the original story was written by an Indian expat who lived in Western countries.

-The game show questions chronologically match Jamil’s life perfectly.

-Presence of M.I.A. Paris Hilton can sing better than her. The one reason I think she is popular is because of the catchy hook in “Paper Planes.”

-How do slumdogs learn English on the streets? It would have been more authentic if the whole movie was in Hindi, which I think is a nice language. I don’t really go for Indian girls though.

-Awkwardly placed subtitles. I shouldn’t have to search for them.

-Too many scenes where I had to suspend disbelief. A blind boy recognized someone he had a fleeting encounter many years earlier? A first name is enough to find a girl in a city of 14 million people? An older brother who would do anything to protect his younger brother suddenly has a change of heart for a piece of ass? A little boy changed into an elaborate costume, pained himself blue, gathered religious props, and then wandered aimlessly in middle of sectarian violence? Police who wouldn’t at least flinch that a man is burning right before them? A new millionaire who was watched by everyone in India sits sad and lonely in a train station? Brother pulls out three suitcases of bills from his back pocket? One boy vomits when he sees a kid get his eyes burned out, but another remains cheerful and happy when he’s dipped in human feces? Etc etc.

Major Problems

-Calling people slumdogs. This is a made-up term made up by white people. It is not what poor Indians call other poor Indians. I don’t know how they got away with this. I can’t even call a girl “spinster” in real life without getting dirty looks.

-The older brother. After building himself up as a serious hood and reaping all the money rewards that come with that lifestyle, he abruptly decides to off himself. So he finds redemption while his pathetic brother gets the girl and the money, and because he prayed once on screen we’re supposed to believe he really has a heart of gold. Come on, that role is usually played by a prostitute.

-Wholly unrealistic. The beautiful girl would never, ever go for the pathetic, obsessed chump with not a scrap of personality. The main character is just too unlikable. I never wanted him to win, and I never wanted him to get the girl. In real life she would have felt quite privileged to be married to an rich ogre who puts her up in a luxury mansion. Instead she goes after the guy who looks more like a loser kid she’s babysitting. There is not a single scene which explains her love for him.

I must state that I had a bit of a bias going in. Way too many white people were stroking this movie’s dick, warning me it may be overhyped. The last time this amount of white people loved a movie was Crash, a steaming pile of contrived, patronizing dogshit.

In the end Slumdog Millionaire is a great movie for people who don’t watch foreign movies but want to say they watched a foreign movie. If you want to see a good movie that gives a respectful portrait of the plight of India’s poor, rent Salaam Bombay.

If you’re a Bollywood director then I’m sorry, unless you Westernize your movies you will never see success in English-speaking countries.