the neuropyschology of asian sluts

It is a universally observed phenomenon, known to and attested by all percipient observers, that Asian sluts tend to drool, swoon, and fall heads over heels in love, at the sight of white men, who are invariably described by those Asian sluts as “tall, handsome, dominant,” (even when those white men are just average or even below average) and, when confronted, rationalize, confabulate, repress or outright deny their lust in terms of “escaping my oppressive Asian culture”, “I’m not dating Asian guys because they look like my brothers”, “I can only cum when I’m being fucked by white guys, I dunno why”, “I don’t have a preference. I just happen to only date white guys,” etc., etc.

Yet few, if any, has ever devoted serious and (dare I say, scientific) studies into such subject matters, due to its unsaid and often unspeakable controversy; in its place, accumulation of often turgid and puerile rhetoric heaped over lacuna of the unknown.

Save for the often risible and “soft” departments in East Asian studies, sociology, and gender studies. Not that anyone should or could take those pseudo-intellectuals seriously.

In the end, as Freud himself proclaimed: that the future of psychology would lie in the realm of neuropsychology, or neuroscience, in which field psychological problems are solved via direct mappings to regions of the brain, and on the knife-edge of whose frontier even such philosophical questions as “What is free free?”, and “What is consciousness?” are being re-examined and partially answered; so I have decided to dab and simper into the unknown science, self-consciously, embarrassingly, amateurishly, embracing a brave future of new field in the hope that someday, someone with more zeal, more will-power, and more tenacity will tackle the untakeable, impregnate the unimpregnable, and distend his prodding Will into the forbidden mysteries of Asian sluts.

So according to leading neuroscientist V. S. Ramachandran, director of the Center for Brain and Cognition at U.C. San Diego, that there is a region in the brain called anterior cingulate that “lights up in many, too many brain image studies”. Most amazingly, it is intimately related to free will. For instance, a patient who suffered partial legions to anterior cingulate loses the desire to interact with the doctor, even though he is fully aware of what the doctor is asking him to do.

He stares blankly at the doctor, comatose. The doctor asks him to raise his hand. He neither replies nor moves. After months of recuperation, the doctor re-examines him and the patients tells the doctor that he had previously lost all desire to move or interact, despite of being fully aware of every thing that was going on.

Another patient, who suffered some other sorts of legion to anterior cingulate, is incapable of controlling herself to do what she is not supposed to do.

She is not able to control her left hand from touching the doctor, despite of her knowing full well that it is inappropriate. Extremely devastated and embarrassed, she uses her other hand to grab hold of her left hand to stop it from moving. Her left hand will also grasp objects without her intention to do so and not let go of it and in those circumstances she uses her right hand to pry open each one of her fingers on the left hand so as to drop the object. It’s as if her hand had a mind of its own.

But that’s not all, experimental studies on rhesus monkeys concludes that mirror neurons in the inferior parietal lobule of the brain fire not only when the monkeys perform certain actions, but even when they merely observe other monkeys’ performing the same action. The implication of this experiment, applied to humans, could explain everything from empathy, the development of culture, the development of language, tool use, and just about everything that makes humans unique. And this is not only applicable to humans, as Ramachandra explains that it is, but also the inferior parietal lobule in humans are actually even larger, and much more developed than any other kind of animals on earth.

And the science behind the firing of mirror neurons is even more fascinating. Hand signals and eye signals all interact with mirror neurons and when they follow different pathways to this particular brain region they either activate or inhibit the firing of mirror neurons. The interaction is far more complex than what I’m describing here.

The mapping of the entire brain is still an on-going project and the U.S. is investing billions of dollars into it.

It is not inconceivable that all Asian sluts, when watching other Asian sluts worshipping and submitting themselves to white cocks, have mirror neurons inside their brains firing rapidly as if they themselves were performing the act. And whatever inhibitions there were in the anterior cingulate of their brains shut down and they are not able to control themselves as they dress smartly and sexily to go out to clubs and bars and getting hit on by big, hung white jocks.

The mad scientists of the future (perhaps a group of smart, strong, and powerful white men with full blown cases of yellow fever) will be able to figure out methods, (perhaps drugs that contain certain chemicals or steroids, or perhaps certain injections or perhaps even certain psychological training, as suggested by Ramachandran) to manually activate the the firing of mirror neurons in the brains of Asian sluts while simultaneously inhibit their free will in the anterior cingulate. Asian sluts like me will be completely mind controlled and turned into obedient automatons by those evil geniuses, complying to their every sick and deviant wish without recourse to our free will.

Another thing that I would like to add is that there are certain regions of the brain that even controls pain, and there are actually ways to minimize the feeling of pain mentally by merely doing certain psychological training. Ramachandran actually says in the book that he has conducted experiments in which test subjects were able control the feeling of pain in their own bodies. Perhaps, no! Most definitely, the CIA is paying this guy to train their spies to endure torture and interrogation. But perhaps they are also secretly training Asian sluts to become masochists for the sick pleasure of white men.

Are you imagining the future as I am, my reader? Imagine the future where you can turn Asian sluts into your obedient slaves with the power of neuroscience!


The Tell-Tale Brain: A Neuroscientist’s Quest for What Makes Us Human by V. S. Ramachandran

Author: jennifer suzuki

I have been a very confused—some might say very conflicted—girl ever since I can remember and I have always lived in a fantasy world of my own making. I was born in Japan, my mother is Chinese and my father is Japanese, and my father's mother or my grandmother was German Dutch, and I came to the United States as a teenager and lived and went to school in Maryland, and worked in New York. I lived in fantasy worlds since I was a teenager and I have always done so, sometimes so deep in my own fantasy I forgot my own identity. I no longer knew who I am. Physically I look more European than asian. My father is of mixed heritage—he has white blond hair, but he also has some distinctly Japanese features. On the other hand my features mostly resembled my grandmother, who was a full blooded European woman. Which was not something that really bothered me. Actually most modern Japanese look very European compared to the rest of asians. My father was a sadist, and my mother, on the other hand, was, in my opinion, a masochist with no self respect. Growing up, seeing my father beating my mother was almost as frequent as having dinner, and when not beating her, she was constantly being humiliated and degraded, like having to serve dinner to him naked on her knees or being tied to an utility pole only in her panties during the winter. At first I believed my mother was a victim, a unfortunate human being in the hands of a cruel evil man, but as I grew older I realized that it was my mother who enjoyed being treated this way. The initial realization made me feel she was a disgusting, perverted, sick person, but as I grew older I began to have the almost identical sexual fantasies that my mother lived and experienced through. I began to think that my mother was the luckiest woman on earth since apparently she had found a man who understood her desires and could give them to her. My dad studied and worked in America before, and during that period he desperately wanted to marry a white woman, and vehemently pursued several white women, but was unsuccessful. At the same time Japanese women were unwilling to marry him. Maybe because just like him they were looking to marry into the white race, or maybe because he had sadistic tendencies. Out of options he settled to look for a Chinese woman. Statistically, marriages between Chinese women and Japanese men have been quite common, and I personally knew quite a few couples just like my mother and father. Even here in America I knew several Chinese women who had Japanese boyfriends and those women were actually quite proud of having superior Japanese men as boyfriends. Japanese in general look much more European compared to other asians and I suspect it was the putative European appearance that attracts other asian women. Of course Japanese are not Europeans, no matter how much we try to become European, just as Jews will never be fully accepted as White Christians. I think Jews and Japanese have a lot in common. We were both persecuted by Europeans, the Jews by Germans, and Japanese by Americans, yet we both come to love our white Masters. Jews weren't officially considered white until very recently, and I think as time progresses eventually Japanese will be categorized as white in the future, though Jews and Japanese will always know that they are still inferior to their Nordic Masters. But as always the Jews will be Masters over the Arabs and the Japanese will be Masters over the rest of Asia. There is no other meaning to life, other than the degree of domination. I had an older sister who looked fully asian, as opposed to me who looked much more European. And ever since childhood I have always known for a fact that I was treated better by everyone else because of my distinctly European appearance. In school classmates would be hesitant to tease me because they always thought my father might be an American or an European man even though they knew my mother was Chinese but somehow they still were afraid of me solely because of my European appearance. The thing was that in Japanese naming system, my mother's last name automatically gets attached to mine, so for example, my name in Japanese would actually be "Suzuki Liu Jennifer", because my mother's maiden name is Liu; this way everyone would instantly know my mother is Chinese. On the other hand my sister was bullied almost everyday by upper classmates because she looked very Chinese. They made fun of her hair and clothes and told her that she looked like a Chinese pig and I had seen boys pulling down her pants and laughing at her for having a "Chinese vagina". I was a very young girl back then and I felt ashamed of having her as a sister so in school I didn't talk to her at all. When I was 12 years old, she committed suicide by hanging herself in her closet. I know this because I was the one who discovered her body. My parents would have never told me about her death if I did not saw her dead body by myself. And ever since her death a dark cloud formed over my head and throughout my teenager years I was constantly harrowed by thoughts of suicide. It was not until I was much older that I learned suicide is infectious and that had been why I was constantly thinking about suicide. The realization made me try not to think too much about death, but no matter how much I try I can never get her image out of my head. Sometimes I feel she still haunts me because I didn't talk to her in school. My parents divorced when I was 14 and I went to live with my mom in China for two years. Contrary to popular beliefs, I had never experienced any form of racism or discrimination against me when I was living in China. Most people assumed that I was an European girl and the aura of being European seemed to make me inapproachable, like the shield of Athena covering me from head to toe. Even when I was in school, when classmates would know my father was Japanese because of my last name, I had never really felt any discrimination, though I did feel they were kind of afraid of me. I had never realized how much being White meant until I was in America: the symbol of power, domination, and superiority that being White implies. Being White is being the entelechy of all that is beautiful, good and righteous. Which is strange because my nationality still is, in actuality, Japanese and as I grew older I started to look more asian. My hair has gotten completely dark and my looks started to resemble my mother's. I used to have very light-colored hair, but I just felt fortunate that I do not look fully asian like my sister was. When I saw this image [of a naked asian woman kneeling next to a black furred dog] in a Japanese SM magazine a few days ago, all of a sudden I remembered seeing my mother in a similar position when I was maybe just 5 or 6 years old. It was not a pleasant experience; it was an extremely scary and traumatic experience, and growing up I heard constant moaning and muffled screams coming from my parents' bedroom. Every evening was a nightmare to fall asleep. But knowing that many asian women were treated the same way as my mother had been treated somehow made me feel better about my own family. At least my parents were not as weird as they seemed, and while growing up I had gradually come to realize that many asian girls have the same masochistic tendencies as I do, but many were just very shy and wouldn't admit their secrets. So it seems there are many masochistic asian women out there who thrives on been humiliated and degraded just like the girl in this image; I don't know why but this image made me feel kind of normal. I have lived in the States for nearly ten years now and I have not talked to my parents, who had divorced, for several years, especially to my mother whom I had some very severe arguments with over the years, especially when she remarried after she went back to China. I was more fond of my father though I haven't really talked to him that much either because he too had remarried. Despite all the mean things I had said about my dad, he was always very gentle with me and never beat me. He beat my sister and my mother but never me and I suspect he was much more gentle with me because of my more European looks. I felt their divorce was a punishment for me, as if they had abandoned me and I never felt comfortable with either of them or their new spouses, whether it be in China or in Japan. My mother's new husband was a very cruel and domineering white man living in China and he never treated me with the same special treatment I received from my dad. And I remember one time when I went out with him people on the street mistook me for his wife and I felt so disgusted I never wanted to go out with him again and then he would yell at me and yell at my mom. I am glad to have gotten out of there. And my dad ... well let's just say I couldn't bear to coexist with his new wife either. The last time we talked was already 3 years ago. This image had brought back so many long forgotten yearnings. I miss my sister and my parents. The memory of my sister and my parents started to fade away, like wavering forms they passed before my clouded sight; their images have become a blur rise about me out of mist and cloud; their faces, and their figures have become shades of phantoms; I wanted to hold you close to me in that blessed fleeting moment when you reappeared to me in my dreams. If only I possessed the strength to draw you near. I wanted to forever remember you—you bear the images of happy days; your airy smiles still stir youthful tremors in my breast—but my memory faltered. It would have been simpler if I were already dead. I would never be seized again by those long forgotten yearnings. I shuddered at those thoughts; and a tear draws other tears. Crying is my only form of release; through crying I am channeled to the solemn and silent world of spirits; crying is my whispered prayer that lingers in a vagrant tone. I have no one to talk to. I live in solitary confinement. I have been driven to madness even though physically I stay put. My life—full of dolor, pain and suffering. Sometimes I wish I could end it. The only reason I continue to live is for otherwise I lack the courage to carry out that final act, to take me beyond and step into the unknown. It is so much better to have been never born at all, or at least to die an immediate death. How sweet and wonderful death would be. My dear Aya, I am so very sorry! A vast space of nothingness in the empty universe fills my heart. Everyday of my life I live in terror because of you. A family dog Growing up, I always felt lonely. My family dog was my only companion. He was a slightly larger than a medium sized dog, with grey and dark fur, and a nozzle that resembled a wolf. He was so cute, so adorable, and he was my only friend. I often played with him in my desperate attempts to communicate with another living being, like Madame Bovary sitting by her fire place in a melancholic longing for escape. I want out!, out of this nonchalant prison of thoughts, out of this cruel alienated society, out of these mind forged manacles whose clanking I hear like looming madness; the marks of domestication on their faces, marks of psychological slavery, marks of intellectual death; they are mere automatons, inanimate objects, so lifeless like straw men, hollow men, stuffed men. I can't bare to look at those miserable beings' faces. In a domesticated dog I see more humanity than the entire humanity. If only my family dog can take me away! And I will elope with him to a happy place, where there is no more sorrow, no more dread, no more cold metallic prison walls of the mind. My family dog was my only friend, and he was my only confidante. To him I entrusted all my deepest secrets. Sometimes I wished I was a dog: no more worries, no more sadness, no more consciousness, no more thoughts, just the need to satisfy my most basic instincts, lying by my owner's feet, worshiping him and completely dependent on him. Sometimes I wish I could have another dog just like the family dog I used to have in Japan. And he will be my husband. I will belong to him. I will be his bitch. I will obey him, crawl under his belly, gently caress his furs with my soft hands, and please him like I would please my husband. And he will be my beast and I will be his beauty. Albeit he will be a gentle beast, always so obedient to me, and yet always so much more aggressive, and animalistic; he will protect me from harm, with his sharp fangs and naturally endowed muscles for chasing down his prey; and yet he will honor me and obey me like a lover would. He will never be jealous, never be angry, as long as he is fed and watered. He will be my best friend.

5 thoughts on “the neuropyschology of asian sluts”

  1. As a white man, I love your post. I have had many Asian women worship me like you speak of. I would love to get together and speak in person or online about your thoughts and see just how much we agree and the true role of a submissive Asian and a dominant white man.

  2. As a white man I completely agree with your posts. I would love to speak with you directly to talk more about your theories and the true purpose of an Inferior Asian Female and Superior White Man

  3. Asians are becoming better with the white seed. It’s sad many ugly things happened to blacks and natives to achieve this, but they became better with white seed. But asians are doing this consensually, and in the future there will be no more weak and childish asian men to be born but better half-white babies, all thanks to white men and Asian women efforts.

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