Footnotes, gotta cut Footnotes

This is a set of footnotes in reverse order to the Kid A Fight Club thing that turned into a long digression worthy of a post.

If you want to read something long and decently interersting, read the post that follows. If you want something short, sweet, and sexy, stay here.

Before we get to them, I would like to note that the enjoyment I had writing these was far more than the post that spawned it (well everything past the punch for punch part) begs the question, if I enjoy writing out of character in contrast to writing normally, and then further enjoy thinking about it, I either need to retune my approach (which is happening, albeit slowly) or I have entered a new era of meta-solipsism. It’s the equivalent of masturbating to pictures of the girl you lost your virginity while listening to “Paradise by the Dashboard Light.” And I am going to stop thinking about this as I will spend four hours looking for the girl I lost mine to paste in the picture field of said Meatball song. (two meatball refrences!!!)

Two:

Frank Herbert’s Dune contains the best definition of true power I have ever come along: “He who has the power to destroy something, controls it absolutely.”

Until the next Einstein decides to create a fem-bot or Stepford female substitute instead of trying to cure lesser causes like “cancer” and “global warming,” women will always end up with the power over men.

Or the churches could unilaterally permit and promote prostitution, which would work just as well. The going rate would drop from 100 for a throw and a blow to about 25, and men would gain about 2 hours of productivity that were previously occupied by ogling the new girl fresh from ASU, figuring out schemes/scenarios or mustering up the courage to ask her on a date, and then finally surrendering to the futility and going to the bathroom to rub one out. I am mostly joking here, but the lingering truths are enough to consider it. The only thing stopping us are the fact that we as a human race would probably die out from a combination of STD’s, coke orgy overdoses and ultimately a crippling lack of reproduction. Well, this is the exact way to eliminate Los Angeles.

One:

So the obvious point is that I have become very disillusioned by living in LA and the women here. In thirty years, the odds of every woman in this town having a rap sheet like Julie Cooper (from the OC for all of those who don’t obsess over the once SO GOOD show):

Appeared nude on video (I’d wager this is closing on 15% of all women under 25 at this point and 40% of anyone over a 7)
Slept with a daughter’s best friend’s father
Slept with a daughter’s ex-boyfriend
Likely protracted
Married for money (more than once, odds dip to 35%)
Ruthlessly bitchy in upward moving style
When counting, the number keeps moving higher as the memory recalls “hazier” stretches
Hot. Plastic, to an extent, but still hot.

With Caleb dead, and Marissa sober-ish, you have to wonder why they are hooking her up with Dr. Roberts. You would say it would be repetitive, but I say the only way the show becomes so good again is if she gives Ryan an handjob in the back of an El Camino. Marissa would drama out of control. Hell, I’m exhausted from reading what I just wrote. It’s like the first season again.

That’s my prophetic vision. Well, that’s my educated and distraught about life view of how things will be with girls going wild.

But let me clarify this is not judgmental.

While I can’t believe that I struggled for years until I finally got head in high school, and now, kids of my similar upbringing are fucking in middle school. And with some of the chastity agreements some kids are signing, it’s entirely possible that someone born ten years after me is going to hear a phrase I would have to pay to hear.

“Fuck me in the ass, and then I’ll blow you. I am just not ready to go all the way yet.”

You’re GD right I am jealous. But seeing as I was born a male in 1981 and not 1991, I’ll never have that gay phase in high school. And I wouldn’t have EMO as my dominant musical selection. It’s a hell of a trade off:

Tons of Anal and head, but going to a Fall Out Boy concert instead every summer.

I think I’ll keep the three BJ’s I got in High School, going to Dave and getting shitcanned with my Hoosier friends.

But… it was a lot closer than I thought it was going to be. After considering whether I would trade Radiohead for Linkin Park and three more girls when I was 17 sealed it. I’ll stick with Radiohead. I like those memories more than I like thinking about former one night stands.

And I’m not kidding myself, the odds of me having a marriage ending affair with a Julie Cooper clone are a lot better than me winning on a lottery ticket tonight.

Hopefully I’ll have married a much younger version of her (or Hermione, as long as I am hoping I want to be married to Hermione Granger or the actress who plays her, both are equally appealing, and you know what, I want to be a Jedi as well. I would never ask for anything again if I got these two things) who joins in.

But I’ll probably be married to…

You know what I am going to end with the thought where I am banging Hermione while using a force choke on Julie Cooper. This blog has been way too negative lately.