Comment Of The Week: The Natural State Of Woman Is Submission

King A and I have disagreed before, but I have to tip my hat to a well-executed comment.

When sexual submission is not reflected in the culture — female bosses, lawyertwats and women judges, heck, suffrage itself — the culture is permanently unstable. We have tried it their way for a hundred years. Experiment is over.

The epicenter of the quake was the failure of the Equal Rights Amendment. The further one gets away from that moment (before or after), the more the culture reverts to a sustainable form. We are unfortunate to have been born so close to the blast, but we are lucky that the reverberations are decreasing rather than increasing. It will take another 50-100 years for the repeal of the Nineteenth Amendment. Michele Bachmann is the last (small) chance for a female American president. Hillary Clinton was their best chance in 2008.

We forget just how primal the female need for submission is because we are surrounded by women who have been ruthlessly denatured since birth. Even so, the impulse cannot be completely eradicated by artificial, totalitarian means any more than the Soviets could eradicate dissent forever.

Naturam expellas furca, tamen usque recurret. — Horace

How relieved she finally is on her back, a strong hand binding her wrists above her head! No more burden, she can just be. She reverts to what she is, and she is that which is acted upon. Yes, she is the object. Objectified. That curse word. Man is the subject.

Man fucks wo-man.

Every cultural institution that does not proceed from this truth is a lie. Our sex is the most fundamental distinguishing characteristic of all. Even our language reflects this inescapable reality through gender. It is impossible to imagine the human apart from la différence.

Vive la différence, you tinkering, vivisecting, social engineers! You life’s losers, you resenters, you poisoners of the punch bowl! You philosophesses with weak-chinned daddies! What kind of world is this! You have insisted our sisters become everything but what their entire being is geared for, because you once personally dreamt of possessing a cock.

We will fuck our way back to inequality. It will be a while, and it won’t be pretty.

Just remember this, you sisters awakening out of your dogmatic slumber, slowly scrubbing out the last greasy traces of penis envy: you are demigoddesses.

You are the most beautiful creatures in the universe. You are the measure of all beauty. You know this. You cannot unknow this. Men are ugly, gruesome creatures. You really don’t want to be us, the cheaper of the two sexual commodities by a factor of billions to one (lifetime gamete production).

You are hothouse flowers. You are our most precious of all objects, we protect you with everything we have, to the very last, with our very bodies if we must. We kill and we die for you. We launch a thousand ships because your beauty makes us weep. You and the kids get the lifeboat, we drown like men. You are the mothers of our children, the vessels of our immortality. It’s not a bad place to be. We need some small, official recompense for sacrificing all that we are to keep you there. Is it really so important you get to vote for county commissioner in next month’s primary?

Forget what “game” has to say about pedestals. When the world is right-side-up again, you will be put back there. Let’s work to get you back there. But so long as your sex insists on grubbing around with us men squabbling and clawing and slopping below, you will never be “treated like the princesses” you truly are. You will be made examples so that the women after you might once again be allowed to act like women.

The proposition that women are natural submissives is not new to this blog. It is a core tenet underlying the truth of game. When I say that the natural state of woman is submission, I mean that woman is happiest when she is in a submissive role. Submitting to a worthy overlord. When she is forced to submit to an unworthy ruler — i.e., when her womb is exposed to the threat of beta sperm — or when she finds herself adrift in a sea of weak, apathetic, surrendered men, she is unhappiest, and will lash out furiously to reclaim her prerogative to save her submission for the deserving.

In our present Western milieu of thugs-run-rampant among teeming hordes of emasculated manchildren betas abdicating their inheritance and retreating to the comfortable mini-kingdoms of gadgetry and porn, it’s no wonder the modern woman is unpleasant company. Her nature is not only ignored, it is violated; its opposite exalted and glorified by our propaganda ministers. We have given her the keys to the house, the office and the ivory tower, and like a child she has wrecked them all, daring discipline. Her guiding hand has abandoned her. Game is one of those guiding hands, and plays a part in returning balance to the force.

As for putting women on a pedestal… well, they were never meant to be there. It was a mistake putting them there in the first place. It has led us down the road to where we are today, much like the once-noble belief in universal morality has turned on itself and gutted the passion and capital that built our fortresses from dirt and dust.

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