Tuesday, December 27, 2016

The Predictable Male

Like most males, I like talking about sex as much as I like having it, which makes the fact that I don't play well with them even stranger. Perhaps, it's because the hunt tends to dim our wits. The less accessible it becomes, the sloppier the chase. But the real idiocy in the pursuit of the female is that we think we're invisible, and that's the part that gets me: how covert we think we are while casting a spotlight on ourselves with our own dicks.

This reveals itself in two ways we treat hot girls. To us:

Hot Girls are Rockstars
In anything they do, that's what we think. We follow them on the internet, we cheer when they play their hits, and we cry when they speak to us. But if you consider it, there are actually quite a few real rockstars out there, and some of them sound like lobotomies recorded and packaged. Likewise, there seems to be a hot girl around every corner, and many of them are unfortunately a dime a dozen. But because of our dicks, we fixate on a few and then sign up for their Facebook fan clubs. Then every photo one of these girls posts weeds out majority of their male fan-base who either "heart" it or, worse, post some jerk off comment, like they're saying something different to the four guys and one girl before them. I love the ones who comment stuff like "Where'd you get that dresser? Is that real oak or nah?" Or any comment relating to something incidental to her tits jutting out. Those guys are the self-aware. They're my people: people who appreciate the ridiculousness of this whole thing, but still crave the attention.

But photography, I get; it's voyeurism, plain and simple! But it's the witless, non-sequitur tweets with 30+ likes and comments which pretzel my mind. I'm not saying guys should want to fuck a peer-reviewed essay, they're boring, I'm just saying that not everything a beautiful girl says needs a parade. Beauty and interesting are two different things with momentary overlaps, but our penises love anything they have to say, because...well, they're rockstars, and rockstars are interesting.

But the point I'm driving at is that it's usually the same thumbnails popping up underneath these things. You don't need to be the NSA to notice that whenever some cyborg in a bikini posts something on Facebook, that the same dickdroid's name always comments underneath, you just need to be friends with the girl. Everybody can see what's goin' on, Casper! The thing about this is that if a casual observer like me can see, then the chick receiving these notifications has to at the very least suspect something.

And one last thing on this: Even if girls are rockstars and our voyeuristic tendencies are a force - and fuck me, they are - we've seen all the hits and their covers. I once saw a girl chug a bottle of beer in seven seconds while doing a handstand, and it was the hottest thing I'd seen in about five years. Why? Because I've been seeing the hand on the hip, head to the side since I was 16. I've seen the topless from behind whilst outside photo before. I've seen the upside down laying on the bed with a push up bra in a tank selfie from every girl who owns a bed. Yeah, they're rockstars, I don't disagree, but they're all playing the same tune, and the lyrics are "Like my photo now and tell me I'm beautiful, you fucking perve!"

 

Hot Girls are Job Openings
For any attractive girl in a relationship, there is always at least one numptie who wishes it was with him. For a sublime girl, it's a fucking platoon of them waiting on horseback over the horizon! Which means that the moment their relationship falls apart and she falls back on the market, the bids are so immediate that the intention is painfully obvious. I use to work for a phone company, we would usually have to prepare the cell towers after a break up for the rash of "Hey, long time no speak" small talk that's stampeding their way. The worst part: These hot girls know it's coming! Even worse, they sometimes even know who it's going to come from, which is an atrocity to men everywhere!

For me, this impulse to burn up the wires after someone's break up is often pervasive and tyrannical, but it's quickly discouraged by realising what I've just detailed. Putting aside the fact that it's terribly impolite, the realisation is that (1) I'm not the first and I probably won't be the last to message, and (2) I'm not going to be the pretext to a joke whose punchline is her reading a text, turning to her a friend and saying "See? Told you!" For the blatant male, that's fine. But to any dude who think he isn't being ripped apart like it's Sex and the City, you're a fool in a nice jacket.

Don't get me wrong, I would never, never, never blame a guy for swooping in quick. A week is like a month in hot girl years. Got’ta hustle! It's not even the penis masquerading as the heart which bugs me, it's the sloppiness really that makes my stomach churn. If we really were as conniving as we give ourselves credit for, the texts and calls would come before the break up and then smoothly continue after. Like with the social media patterns, it's the changes in behaviour which makes the predictable male stick out. He lacks the forethought. He has tendencies toward reaction and not pre-emption, and that laziness puts all males up for parody. Makes me ashamed to be a man.

Of course, in spite of my cynicism toward my own gender, this isn't about all men, it's just about the predictable male, not to be confused with the blatant male. The predictable male tries to act like a gentlemen while he unzips a girl's skirt, unaware that everyone else can see his hands. The blatant male, however, just asks when he can start unzipping, regardless of who's watching. While I still hate his guts, I prefer the latter guy, because at least he's not bullshitting anyone. You see, he's probably astute enough to realise that any girl by her 20s has seen all of our hits. Yeah, we have hits too! They know who they're fanboys are, and they know what "I'm sorry to hear about you and [insert name]" actually means. Now, I'm not saying that the blatant male is repulsive, I’m just saying he’s not a snotty liar. The male population has been caricatured by the predictable male, because he condescends females with tactics used on 10 year olds in MSN chatrooms and they know it. Whether subtle or forthcoming, the end-game is wrapped up in cellophane for everybody to see, so why waste time patronising one gender while disfiguring another trying to unwrap it?

Tuesday, December 6, 2016

Prediction by Prescription


As much as I have always loved writing and technology, the world doesn't need anymore tech blogs, the same way that tech doesn't need anymore lame social commentary. Yeah, we get it! The world will one day be filled with socially inept narcissistic wankers whose Camrys will literally fly themselves into drive thrus to pick up their Big Mac pills from evil and possibly homicidal cyborgs. Oh! And the second Back to the Future is a good film; can't forget that. But still, every fifth show or film they give ugly man-birth to either feels like a sleazy Bladerunner update or reads like a Black Mirror episode: dystopian clit-lit for luddites. But what if this is just a chicken and the egg situation? What if while we think we're predicting the future, we're actually just prescribing it?

A few days ago, people started receiving their Nike HyperAdapts: a better looking version of the self-lacing sneakers from Back to the Future Part II. This release follows a PR opportunity last year to try on working prototypes identical to the ugly ones Marty McFly wore in "2015" in 1989. But arguably, these things only exist because Nike wanted a quick money shot and only really had to jerk a 27 year erection for ten seconds to get it. Which begs the question, were these things really ever the future? And are they, even?

The very biased Adidas CEO, Kasper Rorsted, criticised the shoes on the Wall Street Journal, saying that he doesn't think they are a "save-the-world product". Meanwhile, the absolutely biased Nike CEO, Park Marker Mark Parker, on CNBC compared the self-lacing technology to self-driving cars with regards to their mainstream appeal. Funnily enough, both glorified slave-drivers are correct despite being at odds: this is a virtually pointless product which has achieved nothing but make cult fanatics and nerds cum inside Nike store change rooms all over the United States, and that's not the future, nor was it ever.

Any appeal these shoes have is almost the exclusive responsibility of the writers and bean counters behind Back to the Future II, and that's a stark example of fiction creating the future while we naively thought it was prognosticating. Of course, I can't confidently say that they would never have been made. I've known a couple of nice ladies who have nightmares about internet banking and shoe laces: I call them "Nan", and anybody else who has arthritis would know what it means to bend over and tie knots. I'm sure someone would have tapped that market eventually, but it wouldn't have been Nike, and it wouldn't have been marketed this way toward...well, me: an able-bodied 26 year old. It's happening now and it's Nike making it happen because that's what someone wrote in the 80s, not the other way around.

In fact, most of the excitement we feel for the decades to come is a by-product of pop culture, and we need to appreciate how this influences the market. If something we see in the cinema appeals to us and it shows up in market-research, then whomever has the means to make it, will. It's easy money. So, to say that flying cars, pill-form meals, and artificially-intelligent sex robots are our future would be pretty accurate, but only because we've spent the last 100 plus years saying it is. By the same token, to say that space travel, robotics, portable computing, and driverless cars were always ahead of us was just a self-fulfilling prophecy. So, the next time you're watching some piece of shit fiction which is showing you how Mark Zuckerberg will be the new way to spell "big brother" or whatever other manipulative dross it's pedalling, just remember that the warning might just be the genesis.