Understanding Attraction

It’s no secret that opposites attract, and while most of the world is struggling to contain potential overpopulation, it is important to understand the mechanics of how and why people are attracted to one another and why stupid people breed in the first place. The opening scene of Mike Judge’s film Idiocracy paints a startling picture of the present, ultimately painting an even bleaker picture of the future in which stupid people multiply and those with high IQ’s have more complications conceiving thus resulting in less births spread across high IQs, producing a future population of idiots. Though this is a good setup to the film, one flaw immediately becomes apparent: shit doesn’t work like that most of the time. Sure, the human carnal nature to breed cannot be ignored and this can present some overpopulation concerns across all academic levels, but physical attraction is not taken into account, just the desire to ‘drink beer in massive quantities and fuck anything with legs in the back of my pickup’. It is on this missing area of information that we will focus on.

Understanding how attraction works sets up the problem list immediately. If there is one thing society has taught us it’s that first impressions really DO matter. If you were to attend a blind date you would doll yourself up to look your best right? This is misleading, as it would be more appropriate to show this person who you are on a normal day, and then they can use that as the basis for their judgment on you and whether or not they would like to continue dating you (the result of which will ultimately be a resounding ‘No’ on her part). So you look your best, tell your best jokes and anecdotes, wear that special pheromone cologne you ordered off the internet to seduce her and you’ve strapped a roll of quarters to your dick to make it seem larger…why hasn’t she called? What went wrong?

You obviously haven’t taken into account that she is doing the exact same thing (except the male enhancement treatment, unless you’re dating a tranny you dirty fucker). And since you are both opposites, and you’re both putting on a façade to look your best, you are not presenting who you really are and both become disinterested in one another (your inner desire to copulate says this isn’t true, ignore it, that’s just your penis reminding you that you haven’t had sex since 2003…that or the roll of quarters on your dick is cutting off blood circulation). I’ll use myself as an example:

I’m a total fucking asshole and I’m not afraid to admit it. My brain tells me when I’m with a woman that I should act nice to her, lest I scare her off on the first date. I’m subconsciously searching for my opposite. This creates a problem, because there is a woman in front of me pretending to want me to pay the check for her and play rough with her in the back of my Pontiac (a trademark staple of the asshole image). She’s really just a nice, independent girl looking to get verbally abused pretending to be an asshole, and I’m an asshole pretending to give a shit about what she says and pretending not to stare at her tits. So we’re presenting ourselves as something we’re not and failing hard at trying to woo one another because of it. So what now? She hasn’t called for another get together…time for plan B. Break out the liquor and make yourself look like a jackass in front of people you don’t know.

Over the ages, Liquor has been the X-factor, the unknown variable in how people are conceived. There’s no telling who you’ll wake up next to in the morning after a night of binge drinking. A night on the dance floor is no longer what it seems, it has become a hot, sweaty, loud platform in which females gyrate to attract males, and males flail around under flashing lights as a visual mating call. The liquor enhances this experience for both parties here. As the male spots a gyrating female on the floor, he will attempt to woo her not only with the sacred mating dance, but with the promise of more liquor. This intrigues the female, and the more she drinks the more her judgment is impaired, making the male appear more attractive. Inexorably, the male becomes self-confident the more he spends on booze, and finally whisks the female away to attempt to drive her to his home, where they will stumble about naked until thrusting themselves into a messy oblivion where both parties collapse and/or blackout as a result of both intoxication and exhaustion from the dance we lovingly refer to as ‘Tappin’ Dat Ass’.

In the morning, both parties awake suddenly to try and piece together fragments of memory to determine the course of actions of the night prior. The woman will wake to find a man in her bed, and wonder what he must think of her copulating on the first date. The man will wake as well, afraid to turn over and witness the horrors he had brought upon himself the night before. He will also wonder where his money went. The result is a slow and awkward process in which both parties are unsure of how to proceed. If the male turns over to discover that the woman he slept with that night isn’t a monstrous whale, he might regain some of his former confidence and try to exchange telephone numbers. This confidence, and the use of the word ‘baby’ at the end of every sentence, will turn the woman off completely. Conversely, if no exchange takes place the morning after, it is most likely that one of the two parties awoke in the middle of the night to pass out on the bathroom floor, or they awoke to the terror that is the bedroom and decided to flee, but not before stealing something of little or no value to them (but with significant sentimental value to you) upon their departure. One thing is certain, whoever drove there will leave to find their car parked curiously on the front porch, which is never good. 9 months later a child is born, a product of selfish sexual indulgence spurned by the alcohol induced mating ritual of the young adult. All of this because of attraction skewed in the drunken eyes of two people who weren’t really attracted to each other in the first place.

We can go on and on about liquor and its effects on the mating scene, but realistically it’s hard to find advice on putting yourself in the right situation to achieve the maximum potential for finding the proper mate. Sage advice for the ages: Stop being an idiot. Be yourself for real once in awhile, and stick with it. The guy or girl you hated on that first date is a faker, unsure of how to proceed with you. Stick with it and try to break them down and chisel away at that façade. That asshole you nice girls are looking for are probably nice guys underneath it all…find a nice guy instead, eventually he’s going to think you’re a bitch and fuck you up, and that’s what you were looking for anyway right? God you people are retarded…

Real World/Game World

For those unaware, I recently moved to Los Angeles where a wildfire is ravaging the Angeles national park only a few miles from where I’m staying. This is my first wildfire experience, but It’s interesting to watch how things progress. Trying to keep on task, we’ve been taking shifts to ensure we don’t miss any evacuation notices from local authorities, and being a night-owl gamer, I’ve offered to take the night shift watching for updates and notices while everyone sleeps.

While this seems like a tedious task, I find myself unafraid of the wildfire only a few miles from me, but I feel strangely comfortable instead, as if the sights of a wildfire spark up a hint of familiarity, as if I’ve been here before and I think I know why.

The smoke from the fire is making its way down the ridges just up the street, creeping into our neighborhood, and as it does tiny flecks of ash begin to fall all around me. As I sit in the patio chairs outside, the smell of burning wood seems out of place…perhaps that’s because I can’t smell burning woods through a television screen. The ash falling like snow, and the smoke, taking place of the dense fog that shrouds the mythical town of Silent hill, all bring back memories so real it haunts my imagination. I previously stated online, that I’m inclined to reach for a portable radio and a flashlight, and step into what is slowly becoming the familiar town I’ve trudged through before.

Even when I’m not outside, the objects in the house still remind me of the familiar, almost ghost-like environment outside. Taking the night shift, it’s pretty obvious that most of the lights are off in the house, making the rooms I walk into poorly lit, conjuring up more imagery of the town I remember so vividly. Led pipes line the garage walls, easily accessible for my venture out into the unknown. The kitchen has always been a good source of supplies; I could easily grab a kitchen knife instead. Even opening the fridge helps to make the situation even more real. As I peer into the fridge, I spy a plastic container filled with juice, and after reading the brand name and juice type, the label reads ‘health drink’ in tiny letters towards the bottom.

While the burning smell seems to bring the reality of the situation at hand closer, it does nothing to distract my imagination, as I’m instantly thinking about Alessa and her revenge birthed from the fires of Silent Hill in the 2006 film. I would imagine that this same smell inhabits the town, and I think the next time I pick up a controller to play, the scent will be forever burned into my brain associating it with Silent Hill. These things kind of distance me from the real dangers of the fire, but while thinking about where exactly the fire is moving, I suddenly remember that Toluca Lake, a body of water in the town of Silent hill, is a real place located here in California, though Silent Hill’s location is ambiguous (it has references to Maine, New England, and the film stated Silent Hill was located in West Virginia). I’m taking the fire seriously, but the comparison cannot be overlooked when it is so startlingly obvious. As the sun rises over the mountains here in California, the smoke seems to thin out a bit, transforming the scenery from a dark, brooding, fog and ash filled haze into a normal town like any other. Sound familiar?