Like it or not, we live in a world of bitches, in which the constant search for the moral holy grail of victim status by most of America makes “Bitchdom” the real matrix, with the United States of Whatever this was Supposed to Be residing firmly in the land of fantasy and fable.

The purpose of a bitch is to provide a master with a slave. For instance, the lowly worker who gripes and complains or “bitches” all of the time about his cruel boss, is actually maintaining his own enslavement and serving his master by letting off emotional pressure. In this way he shall continue to serve and scrape and bitch and moan rather than going postal and whacking his boss or setting up his own business and challenging his former employer.

In my four years as the general manger of a 110-person workplace, I discovered that the most important facet of my job was winnowing the bitch-chaff from the brain. Very few people have functional workplace brains, and either mindlessly comply or complain, or, as is usually the case, engage in both alternately. Most employees cannot function as decision makers in the workplace because they have zero imagination, no way in which to see the situation from the perspective of the customer or the owner, both of which perspectives have to be constantly juggled by any retail food manger. I found who had brains—in other words, who was not the victimhood-questing bitch—and set them up as managers or as independent laborers answerable to me for the completion of their special details, depending on their mentality.

I have only worked with a limited pool of bitches [about 600 total, over 30 years] and have found no such creature among Asians or Latinos, only among Palefaces and Darkhides. What I am discussing here is how the rare masculine person can dominate the massive, emasculated Body Catatonic that is postmodern America. The advice is simple, indicating what makes these people far less able to act intelligently.

The white male is the butt of every joke, fear and hatred used by society to prevent him from ascending within himself or to the top of the crumbling social order. He is either an actor, a man with agency, a wolf, or he behaves as one of the types of moral chattel below, in which case he gets what he deserves.

The presence of every additional black man draws down the intelligence of all the black men in the group by roughly 10%. By the time you have ten black men together you basically have an intoxicated or agitated colony of sperm. Israel Flood, an old sharecropper I once worked with had a favorite saying, “How stupid can one black man be?” which he used to draw attention to particularly stupid black men.

When drawing down black male intelligence by grouping them together, be careful not to make too large a group. This is the reason why basketball squads are limited to five players on the court. With 20 dudes on the court it would just be a fight.

The presence of even one sympathetic white man [You, cracker, yes you!] who is not an emasculated liberal or rabble rouser [the guy in the suit on the sidelines], will nullify much of this effect and may even channel the group energy to good use.

Oppressed youth share the characteristics of Black Male, Adults [who they fail to become in large numbers] and the bitch queen welfare incubators that “father” them. It falls to the actor to determine whether or not the youth in question is acting as a bitch or an adult male, for there is no male childhood to speak of in this community, but either a state of perpetual emasculation or a frantic attempt to claim some conceptualized ideal of manhood from the ruins of a fatherless beginning.

The insertion of a penis in a white woman cuts her intelligence immediately in half. Orgasms each draw down the aggregate intellect by 10%. If you are any kind of man you have had a Paleface babe say something like, “No, I don’t know what the checking account balance is—you just fucked me stupid, you callous prick!”

I have found that tasks appropriate to restoring the operative intelligence of your mate or plaything—that is, if such is a desirable use of her potential—include:

1. Fetching the coldest beer from the cooler. Be a nice guy and let her have a taste before sending her back for the next.

2. Giving you a massage.

3. Reading a passage from one of John Norman’s Gor novels.

4. Cleaning your room.

5. If she can handle that, let her order a pizza.

Okay, black women are immune to dick-induced stupidity. They have all been raped at such a young age that they essentially behave as if they have just been inseminated 24-hours a day. Recall how, after fucking your white bitch stupid, you let her work up to the complex task of ordering pizza?

Yes then, so you don’t just roll out of bed and have your black bitch order a pizza, because she will cuss out the Pakistani chick over the phone and you’ll end up with rat shit and nominally-Islamic saliva for toppings. You must avoid letting your black bitch verbalize. If she is going to order a pizza, then bend her over and give her the phone, because she can only talk sense or remain calm while subject to intercourse. Although she will be coherent and relatively sedate, expect a lot of repetition.

Okay, I have a supporting story.

Mom, stop reading.

Son, listen up and learn.

When I lived with Ajay from 2003-10, this girl named Tina used to visit me. She was pretty, as dark as my jump boots and had that lithe build that Robert E. Howard forever waxed sub-philosophical about. Black chicks with their own hair paste it with grease, so you have to borrow your roommate’s centennial place mat to put on your pillow. When you put it back on the table she’ll think she just spilled some salad dressing…

Everything went great on the “let’s get to know each other while you practice for your clarinet recital” second date. But, a half hour into the third date, all of that instrumentation got her bothered and—suffice it to say, that for the roughly ninety minutes that I reenacted the Conquest of Dahomey by The Legion Estranger she said the same three words over and over and over and over again, until I realized, that I was going to be knee deep in cheese pizzas if I let her place the order.

In any case, there is no way you can get your black bitch to order a pizza, because, undicked, they will get in an argument, and dicked, they will order a dozen.

Okay, we kind of got off track here, but if you live around the corner from a good pizza joint it was not a wasted trip into my sordid past.

The point is, engaging a black bitch in conversation has the same effect as jamming a white bitch’s IUD into her spine—it makes her stupid, immediately and this is a problem because black bitches are more violent then Salvadoran bank robbers. For this reason, there are only three ways to communicate with a black bitch:

1. Argue pointlessly until she hits you, which, if you are a cop and you need an arrest to get that dickhead merit badge, could be useful.

2. Strike the benign White Daddy pose. Nod as if concerned with her wretched plight. Sigh sympathetically when her voice raises [this will cause her to lower her voice so she can hear the sympathetic sigh]. When she catchers her breath do not say “I understand,” because, as stupid as she is, she knows you don’t understand, but say, “How can I help you?” This takes a while but will eventually result in her needing a hug or a handshake and will end sometime within an hour.

3. The following method does not work with black bitches and youth who are anatomically male, only with authentic queens. Wax sympathetic as explained above, while you are blatantly checking her out. Look at her body and her face as if you cannot help yourself. This even works, and works better, if she is not attractive! Where an ugly white chick would think you were playing her or you were blind and would screw anything, God gave black chicks the magic ability to look in the mirror and see Miss Universe. I say, if the Man Above puts a tool in your hand then use it!

Okay, Son, keep your bitch boys at a distance, your bitches close and all of them stupid.