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What Kind Of Superman Are You?
It’s International Women’s Day and artist aleXsandro Palombo has done a series called “What Kind Of Man Are You?” featuring images of well-known cartoon characters in scenes of domestic violence.
Characters include Prince Charming and Snow White, The Flintstones, and The Simpsons, among others. I’m not sure what kind of statement he’s trying to make beyond the equivalent of flying a ribbon from your car antenna, but I think he missed the target here. This image, for example…
…isn’t particularly striking, pardon the pun, since we’ve seen Homer do worse to Bart almost since Day One. If anything, Marge is getting off easy (and I seem to recall Maggie launching an unprovoked attack at Homer at one point).
As for the superhero images, they’re pretty tame (seriously, after being hit by Superman, Wonder Woman shouldn’t even have a head anymore). Even the Super Friends cartoon, which looks to be the inspiration here, was more dynamic and energetic. But more importantly, he didn’t need to come up with some new image to show Superman committing domestic violence – there’s tons upon tons of source material in the actual comics.
Those are way niftier ways of trying to murder the one you love, especially if you have super powers. Gotta put some style in your game. But I digress.
So it’s established that Supes was not very nice to his girlfriend. But domestic violence is not always one-sided. Often the woman is an aggressor as well. It’s not as well known because women are generally less likely to manage causing physical harm to the man, which is illuminated through the extreme situation of the Superman-Lois dynamic… what’s she gonna do to him without taking extreme measures?
Which she’s done. Repeatedly. It’s only fair to look at things from Superman’s side of the story and see how Lois has treated him.
Superman isn’t the only one to be the victim of his girlfriend turning on him. Batman’s crazy cat lady squeeze dropped a hurt on him something fierce.
Another aspect of domestic violence that is not often mentioned is that there are times when the woman starts the fight, provoking him into retaliating or sometimes even forcing the man into defending himself. With his greater strength, he is more likely to visibly injure the woman.
The unstated assumption here appears to be that those with power will abuse it unless shamed into restraining themselves. Delving into characters like these undermines the concept – comics and cartoons are loaded with Women Of Power. Aside from Superman, who is more powerful than Wonder Woman? In addition, unlike the caped Boy Scout, she was explicitly trained to fight and even kill. So should we expect a scene like this?
Red Pill Blues
Some notes for any newcomers to so-called “Red Pill” sites.
It seems the term “Red Pill” is well past the point of liquefaction by now.
The term was borrowed from The Matrix to describe “waking up” and realizing much of one’s beliefs and assumptions were wrong. In the Androsphere, it’s long since mutated into shorthand for A Quick Fix Of Truth.
In the movie, all the Red Pill ever did for anyone was incontrovertibly show them that everything they had been taught was wrong. That’s it. No magic knowledge, no automatic grasp of Reality As it Really Is. Much screen time was spent showing Neo after his unplugging, asking questions and being taught what was real.
Many people who “take the red pill” simply trade out one set of canned phrases and buzzwords for a new set of memes and buzzwords. It’s akin to realizing that there’s no Apollo carrying the Sun across the sky in his chariot, and being told that the Sun revolves around the Earth. A growing amount of what passes for “Red Pill wisdom” is based on a pre-packaged set of assumptions derived solely from surface observations.
Much like “taking the Red Pill” does not replace old (erroneous) knowledge with new, it doesn’t undo the cumulative effects of years of Blue Pill thinking. Just because someone knows what’s wrong doesn’t mean he knows what’s right. Referencing the movie again, after Neo was freed he still thought and reasoned the same as before. He had to unlearn all his previous habits and gradually replace them with new ones.
The fooferah over Mark Minter was an example of this. A number of guys took the advice to stop placing women on a pedestal – and immediately replaced them with some guy who talked a good game.
Another example around these parts would be Men’s Rights Activists claim society is unfairly tilted against men. I don’t follow MRA sites too closely, so I can’t say how many of their claims are correct or not, but they do seem to raise several good points. However, even if they are 100% correct in identifying problems, they are still rooting their solutions in the prevailing framework of group identity and entitlement.

So what if you’ve saved the entire planet over a dozen times… what have you done for my group lately?
Despite their intentions, the general result is that MRAs aren’t campaigning for justice for all so much as pushing for their group to get identical treatment as other groups. They’re switching one effect for a different one, but it stems from the same cause – still stuck in the same victim mentality as those they fight.
To be fair, not too many people have come to “Red Pill” sites in the past without already having questioned some or most of their beliefs. However, as the androsphere has been growing and getting steadily increasing exposure, more people are tripping over it and thinking “Hey, this sounds good” and claiming to have switched to the Red Pill as easily as changing one’s socks. These, as I noted recently, are generally the ones looking for a purpose, who have no direction in their lives and are searching for someone to give them a readymade one. They accept small, easy-to-swallow fragments of the so-called Red Pill, already heavily diluted by careless parroting into a copy of a copy of a copy – with all the errors and artifacts that creep in – fitting relatively neatly into the pre-existing Blue Pill framework that they’ve been indoctrinated into for years, and that’s the end of it.
The analogy Dalrock has used (I don’t know if he originated it or merely ran with it) was of the sunglasses in They Live. This works better because even after discovering much of what one knows is wrong, one still has to go forth and discern what is right. Much like Roddy Piper trying to navigate the city and constantly finding new things that were previously hidden, a “red pill” person has to continually keep peeling back the layers to find truth.
That, and the idea of glasses helping one see better is pretty fitting.
What’s The Use?
Chateau Heartiste has another “Beta Of The Month” going, with three candidates in the running. Contestant #3, knowing his wife was about to cheat or had already done so, posted –
People are to be LOVED. Things are to be USED. The reason why the world is in chaos is because THINGS are being LOVED and PEOPLE are being used,” the message declares.
Love and use are not mutually exclusive. Years ago, Walter E. Williams wrote –
I’m reminded of charges of exploitation Mrs. Williams used to make early on in our 44-year marriage. She’d charge, “Walter, you’re using me!” I’d respond by saying, “Honey, sure, I’m using you. If I had no use for you, I wouldn’t have married you in the first place.” How many of us would marry a person for whom we had no use? As a matter of fact, the problem of the lonely hearts among us is that they can’t find someone to use them.
So, who’s using you?
High Resolution Screening
Dannyfrom504 wrote –
…a song by red house painters called “medicine bottle”. medicine bottle was one of my staple “oneitis” songs. yet i recently had it pop up on a playlist and listening to it now…i see it from a different angle.
it’s simply about an introvert who’s in love but his lover can’t get him out of is shell (mark kozelek routinely wrote songs that were autobiographical), i’m thinking she’s of the impression that he’s not really all that into her, or can’t deal with his gloominess (and we INTJ’s can be GLOOMY AS FUCK), and leaves him. but what she doesn’t get, is the fact she he let her in in the first place is how we express our affection. we are solid pillars of stone when it come to our feelings. NO ONE gets in unless we’ve screened you beyond any screening you’ve ever experienced.
I took the Myers-Briggs test – two different versions – and both times I scored as an INTJ. One test rated me at 90% Thinking over Feeling. I don’t think it’s quite that high, but I am definitely always thinking and analyzing.
I screen constantly and automatically. Everyone does, but INTJs take it to 11. As far as online interactions go, I’m scanning everything you write, watching how you choose your words, who you reply to most and who you ignore. I’m studying your general attitude, what makes you laugh and what pisses you off. I’m scoping out your friends. By the time I leave a comment on your site, I’ve probably read at least half of your posts, and probably seen your comments on other sites. If you comment here and I don’t know you, I’ll go read your latest batch of posts before replying.
I’m not saying I shut out strangers. Far from it. I’ll talk music, movies, and the like with total strangers anytime. But there’s a limit to how far I’ll let someone in before I really know them, and that limit doesn’t go very deep. I discuss little about my personal views until I know someone.
I rarely email someone out of the blue, and always with my WordPress name at first. If I give you my Skype name, you’re on a short list. If you know my name, you’re in a very small club. If you can send me a text message on my phone, you’re probably gold, but it takes a while to get to that level (and besides, why would most people even need to text me? But I digress…).
The thing is, if I do give these out to someone, they usually don’t realize what it means. Once I’ve decided someone is in, I tend to hand out more personal things, not like candy on Halloween, but without hard restrictions. There’s no context to show how how guarded I can be. To a non-INTJ, it probably looks like I’m open (maybe too open), but it actually means I’ve decided you’re up to snuff. Not that anyone would know this. So I have to watch myself.
Interacting with someone in person is different, of course. But that’s a subject for anyone who actually meets me in person.
Danny also wrote “sad depressing music is an INTJ’s heroin.” I’m not quite sure about that, but I do have my share of unhappy favorites. Even as a kid, I never cared much for most love songs – I might like some for the music, but the lyrics were usually too sappy for me. A song doesn’t have to be unhappy, but over-romanticized fluff is right out. Here’s a few favorites of mine, to give you an idea.
Ok, I like some happy songs too.
Broken Premises
Years ago I worked with a girl I really liked. A lot of things happened (and yet Nothing Happened), but that’s a story for another post. After a couple months of spending all our time together and yet not so much as shaking hands, she got with an utterly useless guy. A guy that, not too long before, she had told me about his history of drinking, substance abuse, and violence. Ok, fine, whatever. Her life, her choice.
Not too long after that, she showed me (I prefer to think she wasn’t waving it in my face) her engagement ring. I asked her when the wedding was. She said they weren’t planning a wedding. I asked why not. She said it was a promise. This went round and round for a minute or two. I asked what the hell is an engagement ring a promise of if you’re not planning to marry? No real answer to that, just more vague waffling.
I had gotten used to this type of unlogic from her by now, so I let it drop.
This came soon after another twisted dating misadventure (tip for girls – if you go out with a guy a few times and like him, don’t let his moonstruck friend hang all over you at a party until you show up and then say “but I like you better.” He won’t believe you). These two incidents so close together were probably my first up-close, unflinching gaze into the hamster den, where anything goes as long as it keeps going without a second look.
We Can’t All Be Heroes
I’m just gonna copy from What Do You Do For An Encore? because he said it so well, and add a couple thoughts afterward.
Nightsky brought this to my attention. Kids, an inflected form of the “F” word appears approximately 4 times in this song. The “S” word appears once. So, I wash my hands.
The way it happened was I was trying to find a Youtube for Twaughthammer he was telling me about and then I thought that a video of Wax performing live was the one he meant based on the search terms I was using and I said to Nightsky is this it and Nightsky said no but this is good and then he checked out some more by Wax and recommended the above and thanked me for turning him on to it even though it was Nightsky that turned me onto it and the other Wax thing that I did turn him onto was just a mistake because I thought it was the Twaughthammer thing he was telling me about.
So somewhere in there credit is due to someone . . . for something.
Now that I got that out of the way, I like “We Can’t All Be Heroes.” I like to hear rap turning back to soul and horns. Rap is not really my thing (even though I liked some of Eminem’s stuff) but I certainly realize it’s my generational handicap.
In this case, I’m still dealing with the shock of finding a practical, realistic message coming from a rap song, or any song for that matter. [emphasis mine]
I’ve never been much into rap – I did like some of the 80s and early 90s stuff before it all turned into fake posturing by fur-wearing, champagne sipping poseurs, but most of it was just the same old themes of thug life over recycled music samples. This song is different. There’s a wealth in the lyrics if one really pays attention. This guy is telling his story. The story of a lot of guys.
Read the lyrics. It’s practically a manosphere anthem. Plus it’s got a nice retro-70s style groove.
The World That’s Coming!
This post gets very surreal and twisted. So don’t blame me when you have to run heaving to the john.
![OMAC [One Man Army Corps] by Jack Kirby, 1974. A proto-cyberpunk science-fiction comic years ahead of it's time. The recurring tag line inspired the title of this post](https://nightskyradio.files.wordpress.com/2013/01/the-world-thats-coming.jpg?w=604&h=905)
OMAC [One Man Army Corps] by Jack Kirby, 1974. A proto-cyberpunk science-fiction comic years ahead of it’s time. The recurring tag line inspired the title of this post
The thread continued on its original topic, but the Real Doll theme kept appearing. A commenter wrote
A fully functional, semi-autonmous sex doll is probably only 10 to 15 years in the future. They’re very much going to be a reality. (Especially when you realize the Japanese already have guys marrying their pillows.)
Or their video games.
Soon after, site owner Sunshine Mary posted this entry about sexbots. She posited a dark future where men turn to clockwork women because they cannot succeed with real women, and the consquences thereof. I’m not usually one to try predicting the future – there are too many Black Swans in the water.* I do think some general trends could emerge, if society doesn’t change tracks soon. But let’s catch this train before it leaves the station.
As soon as her post hit the ether, the comments ran rampant. Almost immediately, someone pointed out the Uncanny Valley Effect. This is where something is very close to appearing human but something just isn’t right. The closer a robot gets to seeming 100% human without actually reaching it, the more intense the effect is.
It’s much like approaching the speed of light – the closer an object gets to lightspeed, the more massive it becomes, and the more resistance there is to increasing speed any further. The closer a robot gets to mimicking a human, the more resistance there is to being accepted by humans.
[Bonus round – the article linked above contains the following passage: “The idea of a carousel spinning at the speed of light, and its time-stopping effect on someone riding it, has merit. To a carousel rider looking out, days would go by extremely quickly.” Have fun with that one.]
When your sexbot is delivered with Some Assembly Required, the effect may be even worse. Not to mention trying to figure out what the hell these Korean instructions mean.
I almost expect that to bust out with some breakdancing, Herbie Hancock Rockit! style.
The first – and most obvious – obstacle is skin. If it don’t feel good, don’t do it. Pleasing tactile sensation is absolutely essential. And it may almost be here already. Self-healing synthetic skin has already been invented, if not perfected.
Yet.
Satan is in your self-healing phone!
Societal Impact – Women are skeeved by this, but other than shrieky radical femininsts who want it banned or at least taxed, they largely dismiss it. Only losers and nerds would ever buy such things, and we’re better off without them bothering us.
The discussion sped along the track of men having sex with dolls or robots, when a commenter wrote
I would prefer a companion bot someone to do housework and be a second pair of hands. Don’t see the charm in an ambulatory sex toy, I mean that’s what hands are for. But having something like Data would be very cool.”
Well, didn’t his just open a few new cans of worms? I can easily picture robot maids. We already have Roombas running around cleaning up messes. But then a commenter chimed in
I imagine a guy would be able to plug in a self-assembled vag-module into his perfectly legal maid-o-tron, download an illegal behavioural program from the internet and continue on his merry way.
Why not combine the two from the beginning? Create a female robot that cooks and cleans, does the laundry, feeds the cat, and has sex with the owner. The ConcuBot. But it could never replace a real woman, right? It’s all rote programming. Great for sex and housework, but no spark of life, right? It’s just an assembled machine that executes a series of rigid, pre-programmed routines, no matter how complex some of those routines may be.
As shown above, voice recognition and synthesizing is already here. It’s just a matter of fine tuning. Literally.
A clip further up showed that the robots had cameras in their eyes. Barry has just given inspiration for further developing – and possibly monetizing – that feature. You figure it out.
Another possibility – I would not be surprised in the least little bit if Japan was the first to unveil sexbot arcades. Instead of Space Invaders and Pac-Man, they have coin-op sexbots. Knowing Japan, they would all be dressed like schoolgirls.
I got a pocket full of quarters, and I’m headed to the arcade
I don’t have a lot of money, but I’m bringing ev’rything I made
I’ve got a callus on my phallus, and my tongue is hurting too
I’m gonna sex them all up, just as soon as they reboot
Chorus:
‘Cause I’ve got Sex Bot fever
It’s driving me crazy
(Making me lazy)
I’ve got Sex Bot fever
I’m going out of my mind
(She’s got such fine behind)
Societal Impact – Women start to get a little nervous. Feminists, radical and otherwise, apply social pressure and make tentative attempts to have the government step in. A handful of feministas claim sexbots are actually taking choice away from women, by denying them the opportunity to become stay-at-home wives and mothers. Where have all the fair-to-middling men gone?
The physical challenges will eventually be met. Syntha-skin that responds to touch and temperature will be perfected. Coding to trigger appropriate responses to tactile stimuli will be written. Software storage space will not be an issue – even if Moore’s Law is repealed, there will still be enormous advances in processing power. Microscopically calibrated motors and contact-sensitive epidermis tell the simulacrum where to move, how much pressure to apply, the entire body acting in concert with an exacting precision that would make the finest symphony orchestra cry “Impossible!”
[I admit it, I just wanted to throw that one in there. Those girls got their s#!t down]
The problem remains: no matter how many preprogrammed routines, no matter the thousands of moves flawlessly executed down to the millimeter, there’s no spontaneity in any of it. It’s too measured. Too prefab. Too canned.
There’s no romance. Turn it on and it turns you on, but that’s it. Instead of pump-n-dump, it’s pump-and-powerdown. How to add a little flair to the proceedings, whether twist of the hips in bed or a flip of the hair at a random (and appropriate) moment?
Some years ago, I read an article on “Darwin Chips,” computer chips that would literally evolve to adapt to new challenges.
From “Evolving A Conscious Machine,” Discover Magazine June 1998
…[Adrian] Thompson has been playing with computers in which the hardware evolves to solve problems, rather the way our own neurons evolved to solve problems and to contemplate ourselves. He is one of the founding members of a field of research known as evolvable hardware or evolutionary electronics. Thompson uses a type of silicon processor that can change its wiring in a few billionths of a second, taking on a new configuration. He gives the processor a task to solve: for instance, distinguishing between a human voice saying stop or go. Each configuration of the wiring is graded on how well it did, and then those configurations that scored high are mated together to form new circuit configurations. Since all this manipulation is carried out electronically, the wiring of the processor can evolve for thousands of generations, eventually becoming a circuit that Thompson describes as flabbergastingly efficient at solving the task.
Amusingly, the term “fitness test” shows up soon after, not all that dissimilar from it’s usage in the manosphere.
I don’t know the current status of evolving chips, but I have no doubt that they could well be used in A.I. in our lifetimes. Imagine a sexbot/maid/partner that adapts to its surroundings as well as your preferences. It watches you and learns, rewriting its programming as necessary to adapt.
This was essentially Commander Data’s method on Star Trek: The Next Generation. He studied human behaviors and through trial and error rewrote his programming, often writing brand new programs along the way, more or less evolving himself until he was better able to smoothly interact with living people.
ConcuBot (“Connie”) reads subtle cues in your behavior and makes the dinner you’re in the mood for. It listens when you need to talk, and occupies itself elsewhere when you’re just in the mood to smash enemy spaceships online (making sure to do the dusting in the process – no sitting on the couch with bon-bons watching Oprah). It knows when you want a BJ and when you want the full court press. Apps can be written and installed as needed. And it never complains.
And it – or “she,” as you’ve been calling it for months now – knows when to add a little spice. For dinner, and for after.
Societal Impact – Smarter women start making changes in their behavior. There literally aren’t enough alpha males to go around. The beta orbiters that used to get them past the dry spells no longer “Like” them on FaceBook. New company Pandora’s Bots rockets to the top of the Dow and NASDAQ, boosted by its slyly clever promotional slogan “It’s The World That’s Coming!” spurring further calls for criminalization of sexbots. The American birth rate is at its lowest ever. A few canny investors make billions on cat food and toys.
A couple years ago, the Wall Street Journal featured a story on Japanese men dating and renting hotel rooms with virtual girlfriends.
Love Plus+ re-creates the experience of an adolescent romance. The goal isn’t just to get the girl but to maintain a relationship with her… If the real-life Romeo earns enough “boyfriend power” points—by completing game tasks like homework or exercise to become smarter and more buff—the reward is a virtual trip to Atami.
The Boyfriend Power Points app. Get smarter. Get more buff. Get rewards. Now the buyer begins to really invest in his WifeBot. Might as well call it that, because at this point the buyer is finally, actually treating it as a wife. He is not only financially invested in a utility (purchase cost, upkeep, oil changes, app purchases), but now he has the emotional investment and attendant returns that he doesn’t get from real women.
Wifebot 6900 acts perfectly feminine, doesn’t complain unless there is a legitimate need to do so (My battery is running low, and my follicle seeders need replenishing), and even makes teasing comments on occasion, bringing a precisely measured and calculated amount of frisson to the daily routine. The traditional housewife, if you ignore her occasionally plugging herself into the wall outlet for recharging.
But what’s a potato peeler without a set of Ginsu knives? Why stop at the wifebot?
A commenter wondered
You know what would really be disturbing though? Designer Robot Children.
I once read that Japanese businessmen didn’t have time to start families (seems like it’s always the Japanese, doesn’t it?). So they rented one for weekends. A woman and her children would earn money as a substitute family for a single man.
Why rent on weekends and pay all that money for things like food and toys when you can outright buy a KidBot?
Societal Impact – Difficult to predict, even in terms of wider general trends. Much of it hinges on whether KidBots can be designed to realistically “grow,” as well as the lack of even intangible returns on android children, as opposed to an android wife. But a perpetual 10-year old or three could be fun to have around on the weekends. Women may return to past models of femininity, but if activists are successful in getting WifeBots banned, society could regress to Carousel riding as the non-alpha men have no recourse. In this case, a successful (and extremely violent) black market could emerge.
A robot, or android, that manages that 100% human appearance well enough to pass for one does not spook people. Think of the Replicants in Blade Runner. They seemed exactly like ordinary people until one was smoked out as a machine, which was not an easy process unless you, say, shot it, which was not advisable if you wanted your face to continue appearing human too.
If this level of verisimilitude is ever achieved, the Stepford WifeBots could easily pass as real women. An underground hacker culture could coalesce forging and embedding fictional records of women who never existed. Everyone would know there are too many women around (although this may level off as women who lose hope may consider suicide), but no one could ever be sure which are real and which are not. Without a receipt.
The only reason to have a woman around is to have a baby. WifeBot sales may stall out somewhat as men pair off with women to have babies – they may bond to each other during sex. Birth rates would go back up in this scenario.
Until artificial wombs become affordable. At this point, FemBots are utterly indistinguishable from biological women.
Some men will always prefer “natural beauties.” Some will always be rapt in the possibilities of a WifeBot that no human woman could keep up with. Some men may have both (which would be the mistress(es)?. But from this point on, women will have to be on their best behavior, or it’s out the door in favor of Suzie WatchMaker.
At least, until someone invents a HusBot.
NOW STREAMING – Vox Day‘s take on it.
http://theantifeminist.com/feminists-seek-legislation-over-sex-bots/
NOW STREAMING – The Red Pill Room explains why laws banning sexbots may contradict already existing laws.
http://theredpillroom.blogspot.com/2013/01/i-for-one-will-welcome-our-new-sexbot.html
NOW STREAMING – Goodstuff asks “Is sex with a robot cheating?” Plus info about the first synthetic celebrity (it wasn’t the Monkees), fun with Nazi sex dolls, and vending machine abuse.
* This is going to be my go-to answer for any questions I get involving future events from now on. Do you think gold prices will go up? Too many Black Swans in the water. Will the Yankees win the Pennant? Too many Black Swans in the water (but the Cubs will lose). Do you think we need extra cheese on this pizza? Too many Black Swans in the water.
Business Models
So I’m lying in bed trying to sleep and it suddenly hits me how to make almost any business idea successful. Make it amplify something women do already.
Radio, records, compact discs all took off so women could hear love songs directed at them 24/7.
Coffee shops became a hangout for women to meet, whether with their men in tow or not.
The telephone became a distance-indifferent gossip fence.
The internet was just a place where nerdy guys wrote science articles, downloaded porn, and played games until social media emerged and made the net respectable. Online shopping cemented women as permanent users.
Smartphones combined the telephone and the internet, making it possible for women to communicate and shop anytime, anyplace, without phone lines or cable jacks keeping them stationary. The mobile mall and gossip fence, which could play MP3s of their favorite love songs.
All of these were successful anyway, but blew up hugely once women became involved.
I may or may not be entirely serious with this post. I’ll let you know when my idea for a Facebook-enabled microwave oven either takes off or crashes and burns.
P.S. It’s easy to come up with a male-centered business model too. It either has to blow up or have naked women. But for some reason, people are skittish about shrapnel and social diseases. That’s why no one has tried selling explosion porn.
P.P.S. “Business Models” sounds like some kind of art film you can only buy in the back room of the used CD shop featuring clothing optional board meetings and asset leveraging.
Sticking The Knife
I briefly dated this one woman back in the 90s. Things quickly degenerated into some kind of bizarre power struggles. I always seemed to be walking the razor’s edge in some way I couldn’t articulate. Accommodating but never quite capitulating.
One day I wasn’t jumping through the hoops like I was supposed to. I tried to be calm and reasonable as she got more and more emotional. I don’t remember what it was about, or any of the things we said except for one. At one point during her not-quite-yelling spiel she said “I could be going out with other men and you would never know!”
I was pretty much done with her after that. The stupid thing is that it took me another week or two – and still more crap – before I finally ended it.
Jacked Up Game
This is Game.
Jack likes girl. Jack is a dork and gets shot down. He goes home and starts getting his shit together. He meets the girl again, hits her attraction triggers, and takes her on an emotional rollercoaster ride. Is he still a dork? Well… yeah. But now he’s a dork who’s comfortable in his own skin and moves with assured confidence in himself.
A lot of it is played for laughs, but the core concept is still true – he got Game. He never manipulated her, he proved himself to her.
The fact that he can play drums probably doesn’t hurt, either.