Listening to the new Tool album (possibly a review in a couple days), strolling about on the internets, this little gem over at Balloon Juice becomes more and more interesting the more I look at the two sad sacks in the photo from Sam Bishop's Twitter feed. Definitely click on the photo to embiggen. Be thankful that at least you know these two aren't able to contribute to the gene pool, since no woman in her right mind would fuck either of them on a dare.
But they are genuinely fascinating, and not just in the you know, guys, technically 'incel' is not exactly the same as 'straight', right? sense. I mean, they took some time to get the look down and then "travel" (as opposed to drive) eight hours....to do that for several more hours. (Maybe they traveled first and then got the get-up on. Same amount of time, different sequence of events.)
It makes me think of all the simple life-changing (for them) activities they could have enjoyed on this nice holiday weekend:
Whether Dumb and Dumber got to the (ahem) Straight Pride Parade via Greyhound or the Mom-mobile, the fact is that all of the above would have cost the same or less, and been far more productive in being, you know, a functioning human being, rather than a hopeless loser. I don't know who the hell these weirdos think they're pwning. I mean, I kinda feel sorry for them, that their parents clearly don't care enough to point these basic things out.
More seriously, bearing in mind the "all poodles are dogs, but not all dogs are poodles" principle, this is exactly the sort of person who, given opportunity and proximity to firearms and/or pharmaceuticals, eventually snaps after realizing what his life really is one too many times. Slaps on the Kek facepaint and the rainbow wig one last time and goes all It on the nearest Walmart, only with dad's Bushmaster and a high-capacity drum.
I don't know what, if anything, can "be done" about these guys, you know, preventively. Part of it depends on how old they are, which admittedly is difficult to tell from the costumes. Maybe they're young, in high school or just out, seventeen to twenty-one, in which case, good chance they'll grow out of it the second they figure out that real live women are way better than throw pillows and porn.
If they're more like twenty-five, give or take, it may be more contingent on what their job prospects are, if they have the drive to improve their skill set and get the fuck out of whatever hick town they're festering in. If they're thirty or older, you better watch out for them, especially if you're female.
I mean, there's a solid chance guys like this snap earlier than that; the Dayton and El Paso and Gilroy shooters weren't even old enough to legally drink, none of them. But common sense should tell you everything you need to know if you encounter someone like that who is past a certain age. Anyone who's thirty years or older and doing what those guys in the photo are doing, their whole life is a fucking cry for help, guaranteed.
Seriously, it's Labor Day weekend; it's gotta be hot under a clown costume, rainbow wig, and face paint. That's dedication, well past the usual point of hurr, just kidding, ironic memes you guys! these schmucks usually troll with. There's a pathology at work there, and it's not just the surface gay-bashing nonsense that is ostensibly the focus of the gathering.
People with options and opportunities and normal modes of social interaction don't do this sort of shit, obviously. Whether a light bulb goes on for some of them, or they're able to meet someone that they trust who can lead them away from this self-immolation with like-minded weirdos, hopefully at least some of them find their way out of what must be a bewildering, exhausting way to live.
I know how it is to feel like a dork in high school, liking girls but not really knowing how to talk to them, you know, like that. It takes some work to figure it out, but once you do, it's a snap. It's not that creepy "pickup artist" shit either, where pathetic assholes trick the incel dopes into thinking you can "get" women to do "whatever you want" like life is a porn movie.
You want to know the trick? Here it is, free of charge: listen. Converse, be engaged, let her talk, be responsive. Don't do a data dump and tell her your life story on the first date. Don't be a creep and leer at her tits. Seriously, it's not that complicated. If you listen and she likes you, she will let you know pretty quickly if she's interested. And if not, it shouldn't be a problem to just move on, since you now know the trick, which is not really a trick.
Figuring out that little basic fact of life made my late teens and early-mid twenties fun, like unbelievably fun. And no, I don't just mean getting laid, though that's certainly part of it. But the back-and-forth of interpersonal contact, with your crew of male friends, as well as with women, is something that cannot be replicated with social media. As amusing as the gadgets of the current age are, it was something of a blessing to not have all those toys to fall back on at the time, to be forced in a sense to learn real social skills, because there wasn't much else to do otherwise.
And it seems like more and more people, especially young men, are reaching the age of "maturity" without understanding that very important difference, between the snarky memes and inside jokes of the virtual world, and the consequences of deploying that stuff on real live people right in front of you. They don't know quite how to operate as comfortably in meatspace, and so they retreat further into their weird little virtual worlds, where they are always right and mighty, and no one gives them weird looks and asks them what the fuck is up with the throw pillow.
If I was to tell those guys anything, rather than sweating the intricacies of "straight pride" or whatever bullshit they're masking their insecurities with this weekend, I'd tell them that, how fun life can really be when you're that age and the whole world is still out there waiting for you to engage with it, if you have the guts to meet it halfway. I literally cannot imagine ever wasting a holiday weekend traveling eight hours to dress up like an asshole and make a fool out of yourself, and I once saw Poison in concert. Someone should let them know that it really doesn't have to be that way, not even close.
But they are genuinely fascinating, and not just in the you know, guys, technically 'incel' is not exactly the same as 'straight', right? sense. I mean, they took some time to get the look down and then "travel" (as opposed to drive) eight hours....to do that for several more hours. (Maybe they traveled first and then got the get-up on. Same amount of time, different sequence of events.)
It makes me think of all the simple life-changing (for them) activities they could have enjoyed on this nice holiday weekend:
- Get a cheap guitar at a pawnshop and learn a few basic chords.
- Read a book that isn't about a comic-book character.
- Do a few sit-ups. Seriously, these guys look like a massive wad of chewed bubble gum, like all they do is jerk off and eat powdered donuts.
- Go outside and toss a ball around for a while. Fresh air and sunshine works wonders.
- Put a nice steak or some chicken on the barbecue. Burgers, hot dogs, whatever. Even public parks have grills. Crack open a beer. The first sip of beer -- even cheap beer -- on a summer afternoon is glorious, life-affirming. Smell the meat sizzling on the grill. Breathe in the day and just look around. Put your damned phone away for a few minutes.
- Talk to a female -- like, a living, breathing, right-there-in-front-of-you woman. They're pretty cool in 3D. True story. Don't worry about what to say to her. Hey, how's it going? Beautiful afternoon, right? We're just cueing up a few burgers, having a beer, tossing the ball. How 'bout them [random NFL team], ready for the new season? Don't overthink it, and don't talk about your fucking Sargon of Akkad throw pillow, or the collection of stray cat skulls you have in your parents' basement.
Whether Dumb and Dumber got to the (ahem) Straight Pride Parade via Greyhound or the Mom-mobile, the fact is that all of the above would have cost the same or less, and been far more productive in being, you know, a functioning human being, rather than a hopeless loser. I don't know who the hell these weirdos think they're pwning. I mean, I kinda feel sorry for them, that their parents clearly don't care enough to point these basic things out.
More seriously, bearing in mind the "all poodles are dogs, but not all dogs are poodles" principle, this is exactly the sort of person who, given opportunity and proximity to firearms and/or pharmaceuticals, eventually snaps after realizing what his life really is one too many times. Slaps on the Kek facepaint and the rainbow wig one last time and goes all It on the nearest Walmart, only with dad's Bushmaster and a high-capacity drum.
I don't know what, if anything, can "be done" about these guys, you know, preventively. Part of it depends on how old they are, which admittedly is difficult to tell from the costumes. Maybe they're young, in high school or just out, seventeen to twenty-one, in which case, good chance they'll grow out of it the second they figure out that real live women are way better than throw pillows and porn.
If they're more like twenty-five, give or take, it may be more contingent on what their job prospects are, if they have the drive to improve their skill set and get the fuck out of whatever hick town they're festering in. If they're thirty or older, you better watch out for them, especially if you're female.
I mean, there's a solid chance guys like this snap earlier than that; the Dayton and El Paso and Gilroy shooters weren't even old enough to legally drink, none of them. But common sense should tell you everything you need to know if you encounter someone like that who is past a certain age. Anyone who's thirty years or older and doing what those guys in the photo are doing, their whole life is a fucking cry for help, guaranteed.
Seriously, it's Labor Day weekend; it's gotta be hot under a clown costume, rainbow wig, and face paint. That's dedication, well past the usual point of hurr, just kidding, ironic memes you guys! these schmucks usually troll with. There's a pathology at work there, and it's not just the surface gay-bashing nonsense that is ostensibly the focus of the gathering.
People with options and opportunities and normal modes of social interaction don't do this sort of shit, obviously. Whether a light bulb goes on for some of them, or they're able to meet someone that they trust who can lead them away from this self-immolation with like-minded weirdos, hopefully at least some of them find their way out of what must be a bewildering, exhausting way to live.
I know how it is to feel like a dork in high school, liking girls but not really knowing how to talk to them, you know, like that. It takes some work to figure it out, but once you do, it's a snap. It's not that creepy "pickup artist" shit either, where pathetic assholes trick the incel dopes into thinking you can "get" women to do "whatever you want" like life is a porn movie.
You want to know the trick? Here it is, free of charge: listen. Converse, be engaged, let her talk, be responsive. Don't do a data dump and tell her your life story on the first date. Don't be a creep and leer at her tits. Seriously, it's not that complicated. If you listen and she likes you, she will let you know pretty quickly if she's interested. And if not, it shouldn't be a problem to just move on, since you now know the trick, which is not really a trick.
Figuring out that little basic fact of life made my late teens and early-mid twenties fun, like unbelievably fun. And no, I don't just mean getting laid, though that's certainly part of it. But the back-and-forth of interpersonal contact, with your crew of male friends, as well as with women, is something that cannot be replicated with social media. As amusing as the gadgets of the current age are, it was something of a blessing to not have all those toys to fall back on at the time, to be forced in a sense to learn real social skills, because there wasn't much else to do otherwise.
And it seems like more and more people, especially young men, are reaching the age of "maturity" without understanding that very important difference, between the snarky memes and inside jokes of the virtual world, and the consequences of deploying that stuff on real live people right in front of you. They don't know quite how to operate as comfortably in meatspace, and so they retreat further into their weird little virtual worlds, where they are always right and mighty, and no one gives them weird looks and asks them what the fuck is up with the throw pillow.
If I was to tell those guys anything, rather than sweating the intricacies of "straight pride" or whatever bullshit they're masking their insecurities with this weekend, I'd tell them that, how fun life can really be when you're that age and the whole world is still out there waiting for you to engage with it, if you have the guts to meet it halfway. I literally cannot imagine ever wasting a holiday weekend traveling eight hours to dress up like an asshole and make a fool out of yourself, and I once saw Poison in concert. Someone should let them know that it really doesn't have to be that way, not even close.
1 comment:
Howdy, Heywood-J! Never knew you had a blog, I just came over from LGM. Great post - hope you're still writing, even if not here. Cheerio!
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