Getting laid in NYC

August 4, 2010

Everyone says that the male/female ratio in NYC is so favorable to men that it is trivially easy to get laid. And yet I still can’t get a date. I must be horrifically ugly. Then I found this guy’s explanation for my lack of luck with the ladies: the stats are a lie, there are more single men than women everywhere if you narrow it to the prime dating ages of 20-40. So there is not a bounty of desperate women in NYC willing to hook up with a hideous troll like me.


Cynicism explained

July 22, 2010

I am a cynical person, as explained by the first definition of cynical: “believing or showing the belief that people are motivated chiefly by base or selfish concerns”. This is also underlies the economic principle of rational choice theory. I also believe people are sometimes dumb and emotional, so they don’t understand or act against what is in their self-interest. I am not, however, “distrustful or contemptuous of virtue, esp selflessness in others; believing the worst of others”. Most of my understanding of people is centered on the question, what’s in it for them? It makes it easier to understand politics and business, and sometimes relationships.

In Defense of Trolling

July 16, 2010

I was banned long ago from Yahoo Answers after several months of harassing teenagers. Many of their questions were so stupid and/or naive they were begging to be insulted. How could I resist? The Internet gives me a place to vent without directly offending people. That’s why /b/ is fun, though it can get monotonous.

Of course, I would never say anything like that to someone’s face. My sense of humor is basically The Family Guy without the FCC watching. After college I realized that many people are easily offended by off-color humor. Since the ratio of female to male viewers for Family Guy skews heavily towards drunken frat boys, I’m particularly careful around women. In real life, I talk with a 3 second delay to filter my speech for anything that might offend. Once a gal said I should speak freely because she’s cool and all. I said, “Good, ’cause I was wondering if that fishy smell was the appetizer or your pussy. I’m sending one of them back to the kitchen.” She was not amused, and I learned to cauterize a knife wound with a candle.

So a lot of trolling is just people venting and joking around, not the breakdown of civil society. It only gets viscous when someone discovers your soft underbelly of emotional vulnerability. That’s when things get really fun.

MET for Vigorous Sex

July 14, 2010

Here’s a list of activities with their MET values. MET stands for metabolic equivalent intensity levels, which is a ratio compared to just sitting quietly doing nothing. For example, watering the plants has a score of 2.5, which means it requires 2.5 times more energy than a couch potato. Of course I quickly searched for sexual activity, which has scores for light (1.0) as in kissing & cuddling, moderate (1.3) and vigorous (1.5) sexual activity. It’s interesting to note the huge list of things that consume more energy than vigorous sex: showering & toweling off (2.0), getting dressed (2.0), billiards (2.0), singing in church (1.5), typing on a computer (1.5), watering the lawn (1.5).

We don’t know what they mean by “vigorous sex”, but they are equating it with merely typing this post! I think they are doing it wrong. I can’t imagine anyone would define “vigorous sex” as being less taxing than playing billiards or getting dressed in the morning. As an Internet Casanova, to me moderate sex means we are lying down the whole time. Vigorous sex means the mattress has been pushed off the bed, there’s a fair amount of damage in the room, and my girl is slowly crawling to the bathroom to wash up (sometimes she passes out on the way there). I’m dripping in sweat, out of breath, often with a pulled muscle or strained back. It requires quite a bit of energy to clean and jerk a 120lb woman when she’s crushing your skull with her thighs. For me vigorous sex is equivalent to wrestling, which has a MET score of 6.0. I assume I’m on the more conservative end, so most active people should be scoring closer to judo (10.0). Even a quickie takes more energy than showering. The authors of this report must totally trash the bathroom like drunken rock stars.

Inside the Jezebel Mind

July 13, 2010

Recently I’ve been skimming Jezebel, a site where petulant teenage girls can rail against the Patriarchy. The stories themselves are a dull mix of Cosmo-style fluff about celebutantes, fashion and minor news bites about insignificant women. But the comments are an anthropological goldmine of that tribe of womyn who revel in their role as victim. Like a white supremacist forum, the comments are an echo chamber of affront that struggles to maintain a twisted internal consistency. (I found their justification for ogling soccer players amusing. Feminism when it’s convenient!) They see everything as a vast Patriarchal conspiracy to keep women in their place. Ironically, these girls exhibit all the stereotypes of women’s studies majors: irrational screeds, bilious attacks against those who don’t toe their ideological line, and group *hugs* for the in-crowd. It’s Mao in a dress.

Things not to say at the dog park when your male dog is humping another dog:

  • "Yeaahhhh!! Give it to that bitch!"
  • "He’ll probably finish on her whiskers."
  • "Lucky bastard. I have to pay for dinner & a movie first."
  • "So that’s why they call it doggy-style."
  • "He learned that move from me."

Much has happened in my 2.5 year absence that demands commentary. I need a safe space to express myself without judgment from narrow minded Puritans. Recently I was reflecting on bestial rape on Facebook. I wasn’t equating doggie dry humping with rape, I was merely musing about the possibility of doggie rape. But then my mom leaves a snide remark on my wall and defriends me, along with a slew of other stuck-up prigs. Well, the Internet is a big place. If child molesters can find one another out there, then certainly we unconventional thinkers can find a quiet corner to contemplate the absurdity of existence.