The good news today's carnal banquet is something called the "Jeffy show." I have to admit I was really excited to hear the little kid from Family Circus is all grown up and doing well for himself but it turns out the truth is much less than this and yet somehow far greater, all at once. Take the red pill, wash it down with two white ones and maybe half a black and a quarter blue to even out the rush and prepare to learn how to defeat ten men (!) in the quest to have a meaningless encounter with someone you don't consider fully human in the latest hollow chapter of your empty, nihilistic existence.
Also this guy went on a date with a prostitute and didn't get any freebies, so there's that.
Open your wallet, sucker!
The action is joined already in progress with the "douchebag PUA" asking his audience of marks if they've heard about something. Only one guy has. "Jeffy" makes no effort to suppress his obvious disappointment. These are the people I have to teach the "loop and doop" to? I mean, he's a Spartan hero and all but he's not some miracle worker. We never do find out what he was inquiring about, but I like to pretend it was "Does anyone here know who Charles Whitman was?"
Anyway, time for a lengthy anecdote that will, hopefully, be instructive and justify exposing ourselves to this spiritual leprosy. It turns out "There was this girl." I guess saying "There was this warm human-shaped object I wanted to mount" would be a little too on the nose. Speaking of which, this guy has some serious condor beak going on.
It turns out the fair maiden in question was at a bar this guy frequents and he was interested in obtaining Biblical knowledge of her. The only snag, other than his rat-like demeanor, high riser hair style, general dishevelment and the fact he's been walking around with a goblet full of water is that the sex holes attached to a body and maybe some sort of mind are surrounded by the ten guys mentioned previously. You've heard of cock blocks, this is like an anti-erection phalanx.
Every generation gets the hero it deserves.
Now it's time to get angry, because there's nothing more attractive than a hate-filled goof that haunts bars and goes home alone despite investing thousands in special hypnosis tapes. We call the ten man adult anti-sex league the "chess club" because they look like "dorks." You know, sweaters, throwback glasses, tattoos...I guess the pawn pushers this guy knows are a little different than my experiences with the 64 square clique. "I got this giant "King Killer" tat, bro. Let me pull up the argyle sleeve so you can see.
"I ain't no Bobby Fischer nut-hugger, bro. War Alekhine!"
Anyway, these individuals are the villains of this impressive morality tale. Attempts to approach the young lady and mumble "me want sex you" before guiding her to the second base mobile are repeatedly defeated, National Geographic style, by this herd of poor fashion, bad ink and female pedestalization. Meanwhile the camera cuts back to reveal the sad sacks paying to hear this drivel and the general mood and enthusiasm level calls to mind an early November lecture in a 101 social sciences pit class.
Like any epic tale of a hero's journey, it's time for the training montage, as "Jeffy" explains how he was doing "boot camps" all the time. I should clarify that we're not talking about the military here but rather "You will talk to a woman, like it or not" seminars for dateless wonders. This expensive and humiliating process apparently is the "Shield of Achilles" portion of our legend and now properly armed it's time to
show the full fury of the Gods ask for a phone number or whatever.
What's your name, scumbag? Bullshit! From now on you're Private Incel!
Empowered by chasing self-destructive hedonism in "tough venues" it's time to deal with the old enemies. But first we get some ethnic stereotyping, apropos of nothing. This "Taco Bell Dog accent bartender" bit only emboldens him and it is, as the kids say, "on." After parting the Red Sea of beta orbiters he tells his lady love "I hate you." See, this is the good stuff you're paying for. Go tell that thing you hate it, then slam. You're the man, now.
After this we're just "tooling" his pathetic competition, in a sequence similar to the Matrix movie, presumably the decent first one and not the awful sequels. After a mild seizure intended to simulate the fighting from said movie he relates one of the putdowns, namely "nice scarf, buddy!" Consider yourself officially wrecked, faceless barfly. He gets the "digits." Amazing. Here's my wallet, take whatever you want.
jeffy looks like a twilight extra..all pale and shit
i hope that wasnt supposed to be funny.
Den var ju inte precis överrolig :/
this guy is awesome
Aaron Zehner is the author of "The Foolchild Invention" available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.