Askari Rey


June 2015

Outdoor Alpha/Domestic Beta

A cat looks into a mirror and sees a lion as his reflection

Manophere readers are familiar with the idea of the situational alpha. He’s the football star who allows his girlfriend to disrespect him. The wealthy entrepreneur dripping tinkle down his pant leg because a rowdy ass-beater popped off at the bar. Basically, a situational alpha is a man who is extraordinary in a particular field of his life but ordinary in all the rest.

Recently, I noticed something interesting. I discovered a type of man who could be called an inversion of the situational alpha. I call this man the Outdoor Alpha. The Outdoor Alpha is dominant everywhere except inside the walls of his very own home. For that reason, the Domestic Beta is another good name for this type of guy.

Here are some common characteristics of the Outdoor Alpha:

  • The outdoor alpha is a visually pleasing guy. If he is not tall, he is usually handsome, well-groomed, physically strong and dressed attractively.


  • The outdoor alpha is a professional success. He might run a successful internet business. Maybe he is a hot shot lawyer. Whatever his line of work may be, he makes big coin and his associates respect him.


  • The outdoor alpha has cool hobbies. He could be a member of the Lake Michigan Boating Club. Or maybe he is a Golden Gloves amateur boxing champ. Either way, the outdoor alpha does not spend his weekends couch surfing.


  • The Outdoor Alpha is attractive to women. Girls are drawn to him on account of his good looks and above average flirting skills. When at the bar it is not unusual for women to approach him. And he’s the guy all of the women gossip about at the office. The Outdoor Alpha is not a nerd.

Despite his success, there is one domain where the Outdoor Alpha becomes a Domestic Beta bitch: In his own home.

I meet these guys all the time when I’m selling. I met one this week. Devon and I were chatting in the backyard of his Country Club Hills mini mansion. Devon is a wealthy, retired engineer. In his spare time he enjoys traveling  to exotic locations all over the globe. He is no shorter than 6’3 and his concrete muscles come at you in big bulges under his luxurious clothing. He’s the kind of guy that intimidates everyone he meets. Not only because of his stature. And not because he seems aggressive or vicious. Devon intimidates people because every word that leaves his mouth is spoken with such unflappable confidence that it is as if he is reading words from a teleprompter written by God himself.

I was about to leave when Devon’s wife made her appearance be known. Cue the Ice Queen. Cue the coldness and the eye rolling and the incessant whining. Before the Wicked Witch of Country Club Hills showed up I was trying to sell Devon on a $400.00 tree and shrub package. His purple leaf plums were being ravaged by beetles. A beautiful pair of pom pom junipers near his circular driveway were rotten from winter stress. I wanted our techs to get out there to feed the plants and keep the bugs off. Devon said no, no and no. He said it was a waste of money with that Godlike assertion I spoke of before and I dropped it.

Guess what happened, though. The wife announced that the landscaping was in dire need of some professional treatment and I watched Big Bad Devon wilt like a wax tulip a under a scotching, equatorial sun. He didn’t even put up a fight. He just handed over his Am Ex. I couldn’t help but shake my head and give Devon a smirk after the Honey Badger marched back into her den. Devon saw my expression and said, “You know how it is, son. Happy wife, happy life.”

Sure thing, Devon. The two of you look really, really happy.




How Do You Not Love Donald Trump?

Close Up Picture  of Real Estate Mogul and TV Personality Donald Trump

NBCUniversal kicked business magnate, television star and 2016 presidential candidate Donald Trump off their network today after he made these “derogatory” remarks:

When Mexico sends it’s people, they’re not sending the best. They’re sending people who have lots of problems and they’re bringing those problems. They’re bringing drugs, they’re bringing crime. They’re rapists and some, I assume, are good people, but I speak to border guards and they’re telling us what we’re getting.

I knew I liked Donald Trump after he called that miserable dyke Rosie O’Dennell a “disgusting” “slob” who talks like a truck driver and makes terrible business decisions and has a “fat, ugly face”. He also said that she’s a “loser” who is “ugly inside and out” and that he wants to sue her “because it would be fun” to “take some money out of her fatass pockets” And now here he is speaking highly unpopular truths smack dab in the middle of his presidential announcement speech. Donald Trump is a mensch.

My high school was about 30% Mexican. Jesse, one of my best friends growing up, is Mexican. Some of my fondest memories of childhood and adolescence involve Mexican people. And is there anything better than a fresh over-the-border Mexican girl who speaks just enough English to flirt with? Those submissive little blushing chicas are the definition of delicious.

That doesn’t change the facts. It doesn’t change the fact that illegals commit a whole lot of violent crime. Mexican drug cartels are pouring over the border like water through a pasta strainer.

I would love to have a good old fashioned Socratic dialogue with NBC execs and the 200,000 people who signed a petition to get Trump canned.

AR: Is it your belief that rape, murder, assault and unemployment should never be tolerated by a civilized nation?

NBC: Yes.

AR: So it must also be your belief that civilized nations must do everything in their power to stop the proliferation of rape, murder, assault and unemployment.

NBC: Why, yes. Of course.

AR: So, if it is proven that the mass deportation of illegal Mexican immigrants would significantly reduce rape, murder, assault and unemployment, it must stand to reason that you would be in favor of civilized nations kicking illegal Mexican immigrants out of the country. Correct?

NBC: Well . . uh . . . you see . . . uh . . . the thing is . . . uh . . .I . . . YOUR RACISTS!

Japanese Women Choose Zoo Animals Over Beta Males

Blonde woman mouth kisses giant gorilla.

I feel bad for the satirical news organization, The Onion. How do you write comedy that is funnier than the legitimate stories being published by every mainstream news outlet these days? Case in point, this article that popped up on the MSN website today. It’s a short one so I’m just going to post the whole thing below. I highlighted my favorite parts.

Women flock to Japan zoo to see ‘hunky’ gorilla

A giant gorilla with brooding good looks and rippling muscles is causing a stir at a Japanese zoo, with women flocking to check out the hunky pin-up.

Shabani, an 18-year-old silverback who tips the scales at around 180 kilograms (400 pounds), has become the star attraction at Higashiyama Zoo and Botanical Gardens in Nagoya, striking smouldering poses the movie model in “Zoolander” would be proud of.

“He often rests his chin on his hands and looks intently at you,” zoo spokesman Takayuki Ishikawa told AFP on Friday.

“He is more buff than most gorillas and he’s at his peak physically. We’ve seen a rise in the number of female visitors — women say he’s very good-looking.

Shabani, who has been at the zoo since 2007, shot to fame after being made the campaign model for the zoo’s spring festival earlier this year, Ishikawa said, adding that the ape’s paternal skills are also a big hit with women.

“He’s a father and he always protects and looks over his children,” he said. “Zoo-goers think his kindness is attractive too.”

Women have taken to social media to swoon about Shabani’s rugged looks, describing him as “ikemen” — or a hunk — and likening him to a male model.

A recent flurry of tweets has made Shabani a national celebrity, with Japan’s broadcasters NHK and NTV featuring the gorilla on popular shows.

“He will look you in the eye and sometimes if you’re taking photos it will look like he’s posing for you like a model,” said Ishikawa. “But he’s the head of a group of five gorillas so it’s likely he’s just watching out for them and keeping an eye on you.”

It’s no wonder really. Japan is the country that spawned the phenomenon of the “herbivore man“. Herbivore men are young Japanese dudes who shun lifting weights and sex with women so they have more free time to play the latest video games and shop for hairspray. They describe themselves as “grass-eaters”. It is believed that these new-fangled rabbit people are one of the leading causes of Japan’s declining birthrate. The Japanese Government is literally offering to reward young men with money and free health care if they would just put down the celery stick and get some ass already.

I’m quite critical of women, but I do have empathy for the gorilla groupies referenced in the article. After all, if you were a woman, which one of these men do you think you would find more intriguing?


This is a picture of a muscular gorilla starting into the camera as he chews on some blades of grass.
My eyes are up here, ladies. I’m a zoo animal, not a piece of meat.

Or Mr. Bambi?:

Homosexual Japanese man sits in a field of flowers. Herbivore man.
Hey girl. Let’s play Dance Dance Revolution and enjoy some platonic hand-holding.

How To Win Over Emotional “Thinkers”

The painting

Vox Popoli and Alpha Game Plan are two of my favorite blogs, because they are penned by a writer named Vox Day, an atheist-thwarting, SJW-humiliating, feminist-bashing editor and video game designer who consistently churns out posts which are entertaining and abundant with wisdom. Some of Day’s favorite writing topics include:

  • Socially autistic atheists
  • Delusional gamma males
  • Quality books
  • Economics
  • Myopic feminists
  • Game Theory
  • Fantasy and Science Fiction Literature
  • Gamergate

Vox Day has been writing on the net for a long time, so he has touched on just about everything. Personally, Day’s posts concerning the best ways to win over rhetorical audiences hold some of his most valuable and easily applicable advice.

With Aristotle as his guide, Day contends that for a rhetorical audience (feminists, gamma males or just plain slow people) logic can serve no purpose. The only way to convince a rhetorically-minded person of damn near anything is by appealing to emotion and authority. Reality is irrelevant. Facts fall on deaf ears. Nothing matters except how you make them feel.

Here’s an example of a rhetorical argument:

“Newton’s theory of gravitation is false. Think about it. The guy died a virgin at the age of 84. All that time and the dude couldn’t score a single piece of ass. What a retard. Newton wasn’t smart enough to get a girl naked, but somehow he magically had perfect understanding of planetary motion? Sure thing. Most modern-day gravity supporters probably have trouble finding dates too.”

Notice how the argument does not deny the facts but attacks the source of the facts (Newton). Taking the example further, a rhetorical socialist may argue that capitalism is inefficient because every capitalist he knows has poor hygiene. Sound ridiculous? Doesn’t matter, for it is the modus operandi of rhetorical people.

My family is one big rhetorical audience. For years and years I used logic, math and common sense in a futile attempt to bring them closer to reality. Making dialectic arguments in the Ray home is like showing up to a beach valley ball tournament wearing shoulder pads and a football helmet. Strictly speaking, dialectic communication is meet with derision.

This is no longer an issue for me. I have learned through trial and error, along with research and the experiences of wise men, that my family is encased in dialectic-deflecting Teflon. It doesn’t matter what topic is being discussing. It could an important issue like gun control or something trivial like which local restaurant has the best pasta. Either way, my logic bullets do not put the slightest dent in their rhetorical armor. The simple acknowledgement of this fact makes my life much easier.

For example, let’s pretend that my dad buys a six pack of Miller Lite every Friday night. I want to convince him to buy cases, because he is throwing money away.

Here is an example of a logical argument and, thus, what I wouldn’t do:

“Dad, your wasting money with those six packs. You are currently spending $259.48 a year on booze. However, if you start buying beer by the case, you will only be spending $191.88. Think about it. You will save $67.60 and be able to drink the exact same amount of beer.”

This approach would never work. Dad would dismiss my argument by claiming I have a bad attitude or sarcastically saying “Well, aren’t you just a mathematical genius” or something like that. Actually, he would probably attack my character the way Newton’s character was attack in the hypothetical example from before. In other words, he would cite an example of a time when I made foolish purchases in the past, thus disqualifying me as an authority on frugal living.

If I’m going to get through to him, I must go rhetorical. I must imply that only “weirdos” and “losers” buy six packs. I must mock and ridicule him and I must convince my mom and my sister to do the say, thus, out-grouping him. The three of us must point and laugh each time he walks through the front door brandishing a six pack and eventually he will cave. Later, he will claim that he stopped by six packs because “it is a waste of money”, not because he folded under the pressure of our mockery.

Pretend my mom is unhappy because I bought a motorcycle. She claims it is too dangerous. What I would never do is cite some study contending the relative safety of motorbikes. This would not sway her one iota. I must say something like “Prominent Citizen Number 1 owns a motorcycle. So does Popular Neighbor Number 2 and Wealthy Church Member Number 3.” I must ignore her supposed concern, that is, the safety aspect of riding a motorcycle and focus her attention to all of the high status people who ride motorcycles, making motorcycles seem desirable by association.

It’s easy to feel contempt for people who force you to emotionally tickle them into agreeing with you but such is life. There is no alternative.

I’ll leave you with this ubiquitously quoted and, nevertheless, true Sun Tzu quote from The Art of War:

If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the results of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy or yourself, you will succumb in every battle.

The Petty Lawsuit Retirement Plan

Lawsuit Document, petty lawsuits

A lawn care specialist is showering a patch of dandelions with liquid weed control when he hears a woman shriek out on the street. Startled, he rushes toward the front yard. Rounding the corner, he sees that a smooth arch of transparent liquid is being sprayed onto the left lane of the street from one of his trunk’s material tanks. A hose has broken. Liquid fertilizer is sprinkling the asphalt.

A woman is in hysterics, standing next to the growing puddle.

“I’ve been poisoned!” she’s yelling, holding up her left forearm. “My arm is covered in poison!”

Somehow, this poor woman hadn’t noticed that the service truck was spraying an eight foot high arch of liquid fertilizer onto the pavement like a rainbow of translucent tinkle from a giant cherub statue. So, she cruised through the ongoing accident with her arm hanging out the driver’s side window like an over-the-road trucker, dousing her forearm in liquid fertilizer.

“Oh god!” she wailed. “I’m covered in poison!”

The specialist apologized and calmly explained that there was no need to worry, as the product is ninety five percent water.

“I get this stuff on my skin on the time,” he implored. “I have a clean rag in the truck.Let me get you washed off.”

“No!” she protested.

The woman refused to have her arm cleaned of the “poison” because the police needed to see the “evidence”. However, when police arrived on seen, they basically told the woman to calm down and wash her arm with soap and water. She was making a big deal out of a minor accident, they said. Boy, was she angry.

This happened last week and it looks as if nothing will come of it. It’s too bad liquid fertilizer isn’t corrosive to the skin. If it was, this woman could have had a huge lawsuit payout. It looks like she’s going to have to work for a living. Or, more accurately, continue collecting an unemployment check. Poor thing. She almost got us.

So Long Society, Hello Socialism

The Soviet Hammer and Sickle

Forty seven percent of Americans say they would vote for a socialist president. Well, yeah. As more and more people become dependent on everything from government housing and health care to government groceries and glue sticks socialism will increasingly sound appealing. Hand outs breed bigger hand outs. I don’t think anyone thinks that gifting a sixteen year old a BWM for his birthday teaches him the value of hard work and smart investments. It probably teaches him to pout for a Porsche when he turns eighteen.

As America drifts toward r-selection, more and more politicians will be like Bernie Sanders, that is, openly admit to being a socialist.

Leftism Is A Fashion Statement

When I hear someone going on and on about how gay marriage is the most important issue of our time, I wonder if they really believe this or if they are trying to score social brownie points. I feel the same about atheists, guilty white people, feminists and all of the other hackneyed leftist characters making up this odd movie called “Western Civilization”.

Does young Christopher really believe that single mothers are the backbone of the nation or is he just trying to ingratiate himself with his English professor? Is that outspoken atheist truly bothered by Christianity or does he just think it’s cool to bash religion after watching too many Ricky Gervais interviews? Also, do writers in the media give a damn about blacks or do they know that real talk will be met with punishment? I’m not sure.

If a radical feminist woke up in 1920 would she slap a pro-choice bumper sticker on her Model T or would she wash the green dye from her hair and shut her mouth? And if an outspoken atheist was forced to live in Afghanistan would he inform the Muslims that religiosity goes hand and hand with ignorance or would he burn his Richard Dawkins t – shirt and try to blend in? I wonder how warrior-like social justice warriors would be if they didn’t have an entire culture of like-minded libs cheering them on. It’s interesting to think about.

Residing on the right of the political bell curve can be like wearing a monocle these days. It’s just out of style. Trying to convince a lefy about the dangers of excessive government spending is like trying to convince them to wear a fanny pack when they go clubbing. Use all the logic you want. It won’t make difference. They don’t care that fanny packs are super convenient. And they don’t care that fanny packs free up pocket space or that sitting on a wallet puts stress on the back or any of that stuff.

The cool kids aren’t wearing fanny packs. The hottest celebs don’t believe in the sanctity of traditional marriage. Church is lame and whites are mean. CNN told them so. Poor people are geniuses and rich people are lazy. That’s what their favorite comedian said. And that’s all they need to know.

Never take leftist’s moral indignation seriously. When they say your views are outdated, they mean outdated like how bell-bottoms are outdated. That’s about how much thought has usually gone into it for them. Political beliefs are fashion statements for most leftists.

Time To Unwind


I’ve been grinding non-stop. Time to chill and recharge the batteries. Ideally, I would like to stroll through the forest, meditate on a boulder and fall asleep stargazing. Not a lot of woodland in Chi Town. Instead, I’m going to take a midnight stroll down Lake Shore Drive. A dazzling nighttime skyline feels similar to standing at the foot of a towering mountain. I feel small but connected to everything at the same time. Time to play classical music and cruise along the lake.

Agreeableness Gives Women +3 Points

Typical. You never see pretty girls working in places like this he thought as she handed him a Cesar salad. A hostile black pencil mark scratched above the chin was the only remaining hint of an orifice which at one time may have resembled a women’s mouth. He was surprised that something as soft as lips could be made to look so rigid and angular. Her boyfriend probably chips his teeth on those things. And is her blood-red hair meant to attract mates or scare away predators? Her eyes were bizarro suns. Customers trapped in the grey shadow of her gaze became pale and sickly. Her body wasn’t bad. It was unexceptional. So remarkably unexceptional that one forgot it was there, creating a floating head optical illusion. She handed over the Cesar salad in the manner of a slave washing his master’s Porsche. Not angry. Slaves are not allowed to show angry. It was apathy. Her every act was polluted with rebellious apathy. He was looking at the human incarnation of a soggy, typo-ridden protest sign. Her name tag read “Jane”.

This salad better have plenty of croutons . . .

He was polishing off the last hard-boiled yolk when Jane approached.

“Is everything okay?”

The surprisingly feminine voice did not match her appearance. Her question was delivered with the kind of care one would expect from a love-struck nurse tending the wounds her passion patient. It seemed as if her spiritual well-being hung in the balance of his answer.

“Yes, everything was good.”

She cleared her cheek of a crimson strand and smiled with relief. She could sleep easy knowing he enjoyed his meal. A different person stood before him. This is not Jane. It’s her tender twin sister. She was friendly with a touch of hesitation, like she felt naked in the broad spotlight of his attention.

“Are there any good pet shops around here?”

There weren’t. Her eyes lite up as she talked about buying a box of ducklings over the internet. He noticed that her red hair was actually an attractive compliment to her blushing geisha-white skin. Her body suddenly seemed well above average.

He took her number and bounced. What a difference not being an ice-wench can make.

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