Category: FUCKING DAY
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In 2018, on a website almost certain to crash while trying to display it, I wrote an exhausting analysis of the career of seduction artist, Don Diebel. Then I found a book on picking up strippers he secretly wrote under a different name. Then we covered him on our award-willing podcast, the Dogg Zzone 9000. Don has been publishing books about fruitlessly bothering women for over 40 years and I have documented all of them. But listen: he also has a blog. Don Diebel has been dutifully publishing his public humiliation and sexual harassment tips online for over 12 years. And we’re going to read some.
It’s going to get weird. Problematic, mysterious, and frustrating, but mostly just so fucking weird. Let’s start in 2016 with his tips on, oh man… Picking Up Drugged or Drunk Topless Dancers.
The thing about Don Diebel is none of his advice is good and he’s never had a relationship with a woman. In all my studies, I found only a few anecdotes about his dating history and they were all obviously fake. His dating advice is mostly to leap in front of women until one of them turns out to be horny or somewhere her screams can’t be heard. If you were a coroner and met Don Diebel, he would get a little smile and hiss about your job’s perks.
Don knows nothing about how humans or their world work, and that includes the attendance or operation of strip clubs. He has written several guides on “seducing” sex workers, “outsmarting” drink minimums, “circumventing” state and local ordinances, and almost every word of them would get you kicked out or arrested. For instance, the tip above is basically “go to the strip club and hope one of the girls is high enough to shove into your trunk. Test this by creeping in right before they close and begging each of the dancers to do something illegal with their vagina for free. I’m America’s #1 Singles Expert.”
A few months later, for 0 Likes and with a watermarked stock photo, Don shared his tips for dating “Centerfold Type of Topless Dancers.” He suggests, maybe try giving them things? Asking every single one of them for a date? That’s it. That’s how you go out with a super hot girl from “America’s #1 Singles Expert.” And, of course, there’s no advice dumber than that. Those tips aren’t expert advice on how to score; they’re an idiot family’s second and third guesses on Family Feud after “giant hog.” But this is all actually lower effort than you think because this blog post was taken verbatim from a book he wrote 25 years ago. This is page 18 of HOW TO PICK UP TOPLESS DANCERS, a masterpiece he wrote in 1996 under the pen name Derek Evans, and I’m not doing a bit. I just looked it up.
If he’s still handing out this ignorant ass entry-level advice, it means he’s asked out every stripper in every bar he’s still allowed in, and Don Diebel still hasn’t gotten past the handshake part of a relationship. The most frustrating part of reading Don Diebel’s seduction tips is seeing a man whose greatest aspiration is finding a magic flute that paralyzes women and realizing you’re starting to feel sad for him.
Let’s skip ahead a couple months.
Okay, so let’s think about this. Don Diebel is maintaining a blog with stolen art and no engagement where he reposts the same ancient, useless dating advice every few months. Has he automated this? Did he mail his books to Bangladesh and tell them to turn them into a website, any website? It seems like that’s what this is, but I feel like I would have heard about it on the news if a Bangladeshi click farmer suddenly scored with hundreds of centerfold topless dancers right out of the pages of Playboy.
Let’s jump ahead a month.
Take it from Don Diebel, world’s most topless-dancer-rejected man, you wouldn’t want to go out with them anyway. This is also taken verbatim from his book on picking up strippers and gives a nice window into his suffering. He has dedicated his life to this one thing, can’t do it, and if he thinks about it too long he realizes he wouldn’t want to anyway. This post is also solid evidence Don has never gotten further with a stripper than getting yelled at for following her to her car. He says they’re “irresponsible and undependable,” but how? Why? I feel like if a person had ever gone on a single date with a sex worker at any point in their entire life, they would have at least one personal anecdote to support an opinion like this. The backstory here, if there’s even any truth to it, is probably that Don Diebel invites strippers to things and they politely say, “Sure, maybe,” and then he goes there and waits until he’s cranky.
“This is why I hate dating centerfold type of topless dancers!” he screams at the hostess explaining he needs to either order or let another diner have the table. “Irresponsible! Undependable!“
Let’s see if responsible and dependable Don came up with some original material in 2017.
Don Diebel hadn’t gotten a like or a comment on his blog in over four years, so it would be weird if he was putting effort into this. Still, this seems beyond the scope of mere laziness. He is copying and pasting passages from his topless dancer book that reference other chapters of the book. It’s a blog on the Internet and the words say “in this book.” It’s a picture of a butt above the advice “Don’t act horny at a strip club– the women will appreciate how you are there to distract them from their source of income which they hate. After they are drugged, reveal you were secretly horny the whole time. Maybe the most horny.” My point is, Don Diebel might have been killed and replaced by his sex robot.
I was joking earlier about how Don Diebel has never gotten past the handshake part of a relationship with a woman. But this man has devoted the last four decades to the singular pursuit of poontang, and it’s suspicious that by far –BY FAR– the most detailed instructions he has ever given is about how to shake someone’s hand. He shakes hands like he’s certain he’ll one day locate the secret off switch somewhere on a stripper’s palm. If he was in the movie Groundhog Day, he would only have one plan: shake Andie Macdowell’s hand every morning and then kill himself and reset until he found the sex way to do it.
He posted this in 2017! I will never get over how after an entire lifetime of seduction, Don Diebel is now an elderly virgin who thinks shaking hands with topless dancers is panty-dropping wisdom. It’s like a retirement speech where someone says, “I never really worked here. I just sat at a desk one day and no one made me leave. I don’t even quite get what you guys do here. But I do know how to make the perfect sandwich: two pieces of bread and your favorite middle.”
You know what? Let’s do a creepy one.
If you were writing a screenplay, this is how you would tell the audience someone was a murderer. Don Diebel is suggesting you sit by yourself and rehearse your smile for topless dancers. Methodically practice a false display of friendliness for the last person in the world who would appreciate it. And did Don Diebel explain what a frown means there at the end? Don, who did you write this for? Horny killers who don’t know how faces work? You’re 75 years old, Don. You’ve been pursuing this goal your entire life, and the only thing you’re an expert on is making faces at women paid to be there.
Do you have any advice for picking up naked women beyond ordinary human behavior? Like say the topless dancer hasn’t sensed the darkness masterfully concealed behind your handshake and smile. How do you flirt?
So you stare at them, melting them with a special look you’ve practiced in a mirror, which they will find impolite, unless they are dancing. Got it. I will go into the strip club (right before they close (because that’s when the girls are drugged)) and look directly at each one of them, always smiling. Holy shit, I was sort of making fun of him, but I think they’re going to love this.
He knows this can’t be true, and he’s seen it not work over the course of his life, but Don Diebel is still positive strippers are impressed, nay wheted, by men who come to the bar looking for free sex instead of paid titillation. Like she’s going to say, “Sir, there’s a two drink minim– what? You’re only here to ask me on a date? Oh, a thousand times please! You’re one in a million, grinning, leering stranger in a strip club!”
Okay, sure, this is all very embarrassing. Don Diebel explains, in detail, how he pumps himself up in the mirror before he goes to the strip bar. He writes “SCORE” in soap. It’s tragic and lonely… a ritual of pure magical sadness you’re forced to watch yourself perform. Don even has a moment of lucidity after he tells you to do this when he says you should never tell anyone you do this. But look closely! After years of no one interacting with his blog, this one has a comment! It’s from a very satisfied reader named Deepak! And his profile is… oh, it’s a link to a suspiciously similar website with the same seduction products Don Diebel sells. So either Deepak isn’t real or he is, and he’s the guy copying Don’s old books onto the Internet in exchange for a slice of the subliminal seduction country music CD* profits.
* I actually bought one of these. You’re welcome, Deepak.
Jesus Christ, Deepak posted Don’s instructions for topless handshaking again. I’m going to jump ahead to September of 2019 because it’s around then when Don Diebel’s blog started a new trend of posting image macros.
Seven months after my Cracked article about Don Diebel went live, his blog started stealing graphics from it and using them as posts. Deepak either didn’t know they were made to mock him or didn’t care. Oh, and one thing I haven’t mentioned yet here: after a lifetime of failing to pick up women with the perfect handshake, Don started including God Himself in his sexual assault schemes. He wrote books about how to ask Jesus for free girls, sort of realized it wasn’t going to work, and soon pivoted into using the Lord to deal with his crushing misery. Few people have squandered the gift of life as much as a seduction author dying alone with an empty heart and full balls. He’s still, after all these years, groveling for kisses from strangers in exchange for flowers to be given at a later date. So I don’t blame this bitter old fool for asking God this:
So this was Don Diebel’s sex blog now. A malfunctioning robot or disinterested Deepak reposting images made by his worst critic to embarrass him. That’s a prayer, to the Lord Jesus Christ, asking Him to help you not forgive women who almost certainly never existed. How is this happening? I didn’t even know you could get Jesus wrong, but this lifelong sex pest did, then got humiliated for it, then paid someone to post a picture of the humiliation to an audience of zero, and now it’s happening again.
Over the course of five books, Don Diebel went from “here’s how you use subliminal hypnosis to get any chick at a disco” to “please God if You are listening I’m so alone, I know You won’t give me a woman, I get that, but please Jesus help me with this sadness, Amen.” And here he is, in 2019, celebrating a moment not from that superlative career, but from an article mocking it. I don’t feel comfortable adding a punchline to that. I think we’re all now scientists researching the upper limits of fucking up. At what point of failure are you still an author? Still a man?
A month later, Deepak reposted this same tragedy right after a graphic I made of what I would say is Don Diebel’s worst pick-up line, and arguably the worst advice ever given. By the way, if you’re asking strangers if they’re some sexy little girl you remember from 1972 before you talk to God, you legally need to include that in your prayers. “Dear Jesus, I tried the Girl Scout thing again. Yes, I know. Anyway, please help me deal with the loneliness still happening to me for whatever reason.”
The next month, every single post on Don Diebel’s blog was a derisive graphic made by me, his cyber bully, with no links, context, comments, or likes. There’s a thing that happens sometimes when I write about an obscure author and my articles making fun of them take over their Google results, but I’ve never had anyone voluntarily surrender their entire online identity to me like this. It’s fucking nuts. It’s like calling him Fart Virgin and him coming back a year later with a notarized change of name form and saying, “Thanks for the free name, sucker!”
Uh oh, I called him Fart Virgin, which means I’ve hit the part of my Don Diebel research where I’m too sad to make jokes. Let’s see if I can find something positive on the blog of a man who proudly stood by the words “Daddy Pick-Up Line: Your daddy must play the trumpet because he sure does make me horny looking at your beautiful body!”
Hey, wow! Seven months later, on a post about prioritizing Jesus Christ while on a pussy hunt, Don Diebel’s blog got a comment from a reader! A maybe real person, whose name did not link to an online roofie retailer, asked if he could talk privately with Don about “hooking up with single ladies.” It’s happening for him! He got a fan! Though I worry Hugh J is going to be disappointed when Don opens a chat window and types some nutbag shit like “sexy babes love topics so memorize a newspaper before talking to one. thanks for reading! good hunting -Don.”
hahaha Don, I was kidding about memorizing the newspaper, Don! Hold on… make an interesting story… wisecracks… you know, aside from the trumpet quote graphic Deepak included, this one isn’t very crazy at all. How is “memorize the goddamn newspaper” Don Diebel’s best seduction advice? How has the bar been so lowered that a pervert’s dying words of “it’s quite erotic to memorize… the newspaper!” has me saying, “You know, he’s not wrong, gang!” Have I been subliminally hypnotized by the seductive country music CD I bought*?
* again, I really did.
Nine days later, Don leads us in a prayer to try to convince Jesus we’re not sad our girlfriend left. I’m not sure if this makes it more sad or less sad, but Don Diebel definitely made up this girlfriend he’s hassling Jesus about.
Don Diebel is now trying to cope with Jesus’ choice to not give him free babes. Over the course of his career Don has tried everything. Hypnosis never worked, asking to suck feet at the pool didn’t end how he hoped, propositioning every centerfold type of topless dancer was arguably pointless, handshakes and staring led to nothing, smiling was a huge waste of time, and now on his death bed even Jesus is failing him!? How? Is Jesus maybe mad about Don not being Christian enough? That must be it. Put that in the blog, Deepak.
After too much Don Diebel I find myself taking on some of his mannerisms. For instance, I start giving out obvious advice like “if you want your mentoring to be taken seriously don’t include a picture of yourself sexually objectifying Girl Scouts.” Otherwise, this post is sound advice– if you shut up about feet and Girl Scouts long enough for a woman to stay and talk to you, let her finish her sentences. Wait, hold on, what is that hypothetical story this hypothetical woman is telling? Someone mooned her during rush hour? I don’t like how Don Diebel’s yada yada example of a generic human conversation is some guy taking out his asshole and showing it to a woman. It makes sense, but I still don’t like it. Let’s do one more…
God damn it, Don. You’re still doing this? We can’t end on that one. Let’s jump all the way to the present day. What advice did the self-proclaimed #1 Singles Expert in America Since 1981 use to end 2021?
In 2021, years after we collectively decided this is a very special occasion word, Don Diebel used “bitch” ten times to describe women and their bitchy ways. It’s the culmination of forty years of academic women’s studies in and out of the field, and Don Diebel’s advice on meeting and seducing ladies is “bitches are bitches and will never not be bitches, wait let me explain: those bitches will die bitches.” It’s incredible. He has spent every waking moment of his life dedicated to this singular purpose and no one has been worse at anything. This is like finding out Timothy McVeigh wrote 30 books on serene home decorating tips. With all the deranged wonders I’ve seen, I truly can’t believe Don Diebel is still doing this shit.
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This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Brian S., who mistakenly received the answers to every single one of Don Diebel’s prayers and spends every day on the run from a drugged stripper army.
We fucked so much in 2021 we left a rising tide of babies that threaten to drown this culture. They’re going to have to name a whole generation after us. Sorry, Generation Wiener, here are the Fucking Days that defined your conception.
A man sat down to type a funny description of Dick Fight Island. His fingers began to go to work. The words “Dick Fight Island,” appeared on his monitor. The man smiled. He was done. Dick Fight Island was fucking already funny and described.
If you read Dick Fight Island Part 1, you know there’s more to these dick fights than mashing dicks together. Despite the participants’ most furious efforts, there’s also passion. Every dick shattering is a love story. And vice versa.
Sex Magick for the Solitary Practitioner
“It is important for you to breathe while you touch yourself,” advises Sex Magick for the Solitary Practitioner under the section Breathe. It’s the ultimate expression of erotic sorcery… the endgame of every wizard– just blasting yourself with sex powers while you jerk off.
How to Seduce Your Lover Forever
Several ordinary, extremely not camera-ready couples teach you how to clumsily fuck in this sex lotion commercial disguised as an instructional video. Warning: How to Seduce Your Lover Forever is well within any pedestrian lover’s kink zone, but will still find ways to gross you out in ways you never thought possible.
Cool-Pastor John Crowder really loves God. It wouldn’t be indelicate to say he take-it-out-and-spray-it-on-my-chest-daddy loves God. Also, his infant daughter hunts the foreskins of Satanists. There’s really no better way to describe this book. A strange author ingests and fucks God constantly and his children stalk the night for foreskins.
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Fucking Day: Horny, Horny Santas đźŚ
Well, it’s that time of year again, time to celebrate the fact that no one can tell me to shut the fuck up about Christmas anymore! It’s the holiday season! And I’m horny for holidays! You know who else is so, so horny? Santa. Yep, I’m diving right into it.
When I was a kid, I wondered, what does Santa do the other 364 days of the year? I thought Santa should be part of the side hustle economy, driving an Uber, shopping for Instacart, maybe selling some of those handcrafted toys on Etsy. As an adult, I realize the Toy Delivery Boy thing is his second job. What Santa spends most of the holiday season doing is getting beautiful women laid. I see I have your attention, beautiful women.
This year there are going to be, no shit, 146 original Christmas movies premiering across Hallmark, Lifetime, Netflix, Peacock, UpTV, GAC Family, The Foot Channel, etc. Christmas is second only to Halloween in magic holidays, but all Christmas magic comes from the same place– it’s Santa, or it’s his elves, or his sleigh, or his reindeer, or a holiday Gremlin slaughter. Either way, all roads lead back to Old Saint Dick.
We love movies where two hot people decide to kiss at Christmas. So, of those 146 movies, at least twenty percent will use Santa as a catalyst to make two hot people kiss. That’s just math. There are only so many ways to get women to leave their stressful corporate jobs behind to have sex with a single dad who owns a snowglobe emporium.
In A Boyfriend For Christmas, Santa just straight up delivers a man who calls himself Douglas Firwood to a woman who told a mall Santa she wanted a boyfriend for Christmas when she was thirteen. First of all, if I showed up to work seventeen years late, I would get fired. Additionally, it seems pretty not cool to give a human being as a Christmas present! I guess it doesn’t count as human trafficking if you’re Santa? Like maybe the elf-owning sorcerer delivering sex slaves to teenagers shouldn’t be in charge of who’s naughty or nice?
Spoilers for A Boyfriend For Christmas: Douglas Firwood turns out to be an actual guy that Santa sort of guides toward the heroine, but let’s be clear: if Santa can’t find a real flesh and blood man for you, he will magically create a living being just to get you laid. According to the synopsis for the 2018 Lifetime movie, A Very Nutty Christmas, Mellissa Joan Hart falls for a man who “may be a nutcracker come to life.” Guess fucking what? He’s a nutcracker come to life. Never. Ever. Has anyone looked at another person and said, I think he may be a nutcracker come to life and been WRONG. If you think that might be what’s going on…let me tell you for sure that is what’s happening. Look at this man:
Do you think he might be a nutcracker come to life? Hmm, I don’t know what it is, but there’s just something? Some nutcracker come to life vibe that I’m getting off of him. I’ve got a pretty good nutcracker-dar, and it is going off! If this guy asks you to put your nuts in his mouth, that’s a trap.
You know who gives Mellissa Joan Hart that nutcracker which may have transformed into a hot human man she can kiss? This suspiciously Santaish fellow:
Oof, what does it say about your personality if Santa has to magic you a sex doll? I mean, he’ll do it. That’s how committed Santa is to getting you laid. He’ll create new life so Mellissa Joan Heart can fuck it.
Obviously, Santa is dedicated to this task, but he’s also a busy man. He’s got that toy side gig, and there are a lot of lonely women in the world who need him to nudge a sexy, ice-skating lawyer with Christmas amnesia toward their annual couple’s ice dancing competition. Santa’s so busy making women’s dreams come true he has to pull elves off the toy line and force them to do his damn job for him.
There’s this guy who shows up in all three of The Princess Switch films at the most opportune moments. He gives one princess a pep talk to set her on her romantic journey and makes sure the other princess’s fiance doesn’t get to the airport before she can profess her love. In the third movie, he pops up again to help them escape a party during a diamond heist. There’s a lot going on in The Princess Switch movies. I thought this was supposed to be Santa, but according to IMDB, he is “Elf Man.”
It seems like a weird burn to do nothing to this actor but mess up his hair a little and then say, “yeah, that looks enough like an elf, I guess? Elves are, like, kinda weird looking little dudes, right? This guy is a weird looking dude. I think it works!”
The phrase Elf Man upsets me. Does he turn into an elf during a full moon? Is it Elf/Man? Some disturbing hybrid Santa is working on so the elves can reach the tall shelves, drive cabs, and sneak into the modern world undetected to help Santa on his true mission of delivering Christmas sausage to women all over America? Are we overworking him with our insatiable need for Christmas sex? Is he genetically engineering the elves to spread holiday dick? With everything he is, Elf Man says “YES.”
I’ve made it sound as if Santa is the problem here, but really, I know it’s us. We’ve driven Santa to this, and honestly, as obsessed with Santa is with us getting laid, we are somehow equally obsessed with Santa getting laid. The Santa Clause 2 is all about how Santa has to have a Mrs. Claus. Nobody wants to be swiping through Tinder and see Santa, I get it, but it seems weird that Mrs. Claus is a required part of Santa cannon. Can he not satiate his lustful hunger with the tiny, calloused hands of his elves?
Another plot that comes up repeatedly in Christmas movies is that Santa’s hot son, whose name is usually Nick or Kris, has to find a bride by Christmas Eve to become Santa. Santa’s Boot, My Santa, Single Santa Seeks Mrs. Claus starring Steve Guttenberg, and its sequel Meet The Santas still starring Steve Guttenberg, are all about either women desperate to marry hot young Santa or hot young Santa desperate to find a bride so that he can maintain his father’s toy/fuck empire.
This isn’t a thing that happens on one channel. It’s not like Hallmark really likes to produce sexy Santa fanfic. It’s everywhere– Lifetime, UpTV, and who could forget The Foot Channel classic, Santa’s Hot Adult Son’s Pretty Little Toes. It’s my favorite Christmas movie!
We created Santa, and since we as a society are a bunch of perverts who’ve never created a pure and whimsical character we didn’t immediately want to bang, I guess it makes sense we made Santa a pervert. He is always watching; after all, maybe that’s why he’s so concerned about putting together these smoking hot couples. He sees you when you’re sleeping, including you, Steve Guttenberg, and we all get how creepy that is.
Within this genre of Christmas romance movies, considered the most boring and chaste of all movie genres, there’s this super horny fanfic undertone. It’s the tale of a fat, jolly, old man, with a hot son watching everybody bone on the most magical day of the year. Merry Beginning of a Full Month of Unrelenting Christmas, Everyone!
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This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Mike Stiles, who makes a great stocking stuffer.
Nobody really likes pickup artists. They reduce women to a cranky wad of holes waiting to be tricked into penetration, but what if I told you there’s a less likeable version of that? What if I told you I found a book by horny sociopaths who also love Japanese cartoons? What if it’s worse than that sounds?
How to Pick Up Girls at a Con was written by three future murderers called “The Night Kid$” and I think their process was jotting down some broad advice for helpless virgins and then giving it to a child who was told at gunpoint to “make it sound nerdier.” Picture two people giving you advice at the same time. One says, “Bro, you need to shave your unibrow if you want to get your dick wet!” The other says, “Um, you may find evolving that Pikachu into a Raichu to be quite, um, troublesome without a thunder stone lol.” This book is those two voices combining into one, but again, less likeable than that sounds.
The Night Kid$ speak Nerd like a Kansas librarian speaks Rap. This introduction is something a cop would say to arouse suspicion in a Channing Tatum comedy called Undercover Incel. If you call casual sex “a co-op game,” you shouldn’t be trying to do it. You should be asking your younger brother to put on a bra so you can practice honking boobies and having him explain to you why you’re a goddamn loser. And this isn’t a joke, but the line “picking up a 3-D girl can feel virtually impossible,” is a fucking disgrace. These sex pests have the writing sensibilities of a cute pillow, probably because they each watched a grandmother stop struggling under one.
Here’s a look at the table of contents, if you want to establish some expectations. It takes you on your girl hunt from preparation to recon to manipulation to CONGRATULATIONS, which is Murderer for “murder.” Let’s start with what the Night Kid$ consider “being well equipped.”
They start off by suggesting you keep as much feces and disease off your body as possible. It’s not bad advice, but it gives you a good idea of who they think their audience is. How to Pick Up Girls at a Con is for things that walked out of a swamp with a boner.
Now that you’ve gotten at least some of the poop off yourself, you’re ready to learn the basics of social etiquette, such as the kind you’ve seen outside. Don’t be a creep, and refer to a stranger’s tits as “her power level.” Now stare at your fading hands as the paradox of the last sentence erases you.
It’s not a great sign when the first three pieces of advice in your chick hounding book are:
1. Here’s how you take a bath.
2. Use all the social skills you’ve spent your life cultivating.
3. You remembered to be fit, right?
If you asked a random 7th grader to write this book, the only difference would be that the gamer language would sound more genuine. This shit sounds like Mitt Romney trying to understand his son Cham who actually prefers to be called Akira-chan.
Obviously, if you’re looking to score babes, it’s important to brush up on your anime knowledge. Let’s stop here for a second because this one sort of gives away the game. Most old pickup artist books are about smearing the world with horniness and hoping to catch a woman at her most vulnerable moment. Modern pickup artist books are about crowd-sourced techniques to fake a personality long enough to seem interesting. This book is absolutely neither. These motherfuckers are already floundering in Chapter One. How to Pick Up Girls at a Con has no usable tips and was clearly written by guys who were sort of fuckable and found a community where that was a cheat code.
So let’s talk about these possible hunks, who I looked up on social media. One of them shares an instagram with his wife and I’d describe him as both “pretty” and “definitely a danger to that wife I mentioned.” The other two are a cute emo boy and a dead-eyed fitness enthusiast who takes the same emotionless mirror selfie every few days. The point is, and I say this as a handsome person, we don’t get laid because of our keen ability to navigate the human experience. If you ask a hot guy what their secret is he might go, “Um, be born symmetrical? D- deodorant. Oh, and pretend to like cartoons since nerd girls are used to suitors covered in poop!”
I’m not saying the Night Kid$ are for everyone. They look like point guards in an all-hairdresser basketball league. If they see this and get mad at me, they’d have to seduce 8 more boys their size before they could plausibly threaten to beat me up. But sure, if you dress them up like moon creature ranchers and throw them into a convention center they’d be in the upper 40th percentile. Enjoy, ladies. Anyway, let’s review their introductory poontang tips:
To be fair to the soft and smooth Night Kid$, they do cover some entry-level pickup advice like the importance of “breaking the touch barrier” and “bringing a wingman.” The wingman is there to both prove you’re capable of having a friend and to distract anyone you’re not trying to fuck. None of it is actionable or useful. It’s like writing a book on auto racing and telling the reader to make sure there are tires and to always know when to go fast. And I fucking dare you to find worse sex advice than “Obtain anime knowledge.” You could dedicate the rest of your life to it and you will die cursing me for being right. “Eat from diapers and change your name to Diaper Eater” is better sex advice than “Obtain anime knowledge.”
Chapter one had a dark tone, but hopefully they’ll get a little less predatory as they go. Let’s move on to Chapter 2: CHOOSE YOUR HUNTI– oh my god.
You know when you need loot drops from quest monsters and they only spawn in one spot? That’s what it’s like establishing intimate relationships with human women. And of course, here’s an unrelated quote from the character select screen of Marvel vs. Capcom: Infinite. It’s possible I’ve read more books like this than anyone, and this is the new bar I have for “worst anyone has ever been with women.” These three guys all agreed girls are like Monster Hunter and still decided they were experts. I don’t have an analogy for it. It will be the analogy the next time an unqualified monster decides to be an author. If Michael Jackson’s doctor writes a book on sleep remedies I’ll say, “That’s like a nerd writing a sex manual using the knowledge he got from Monster Hunter.”
Let’s skip past the admittedly sound advice to “be fun and popular” and talk about the real dilemma. It’s the decision every man-about-town has to face at an anime convention– crushing ass or the variety of panels and events? It’s what we in the anime fuck community call The Unlimited Pussy or Meet the Voice of Rainbow Dash Gambit.
To their credit, these three authors are starting to figure out they might not have scored their seven combined sexual encounters, eight if you count hand stuff, by way of their masterful seduction techniques. They’re out of ideas and they know it. Their confidence is so shaken they open Chapter 3: SCOUT THE POTENTIAL WAIFU by trying to lower the reader’s expectations. They consider the hypothetical reader of How to Pick Up Girls at a Con and tell them to take a look at themself and consider their options. It’s a book purely about fantasy within a world of fictional wonder and they want you to be a little more realistic. Are you really a “human girl” kind of guy? After all, you just learned how to wipe your ass twenty seven pages ago.
Okay, now that you know your worth, let’s see if we can figure out who you should go for.
What you’re looking for are “Wall Stragglers” and “The Loners.” And as for the second page of your potential targets, you shouldn’t be too surprised to find it’s entirely blank except for this drawing of a girl whose panties you can see. So to recap: ambush women when they’re tired and alone, hoping they “perhaps secretly” want to talk to you, and if that doesn’t work, this young cartoon girl’s mostly exposed crotch. Let’s be real. You had to expect exactly this, unlikely readers of How to Pick Up Girls at a Con. Now let’s move on to some of the things you’ll need to watch out for.
Holy shit, if I’m understanding this correctly, the first potential danger they list is “accidentally fucking a dude.” When was this written? This is some old timey Crocodile Dundee transph– 2021!? They published this misogynist relic this year!?
Okay, fine, let’s assume the Night Kid$ were too busy hiding from paternity tests to keep up with the latest trends in gay jokes. The other thing they tell you to look out for is people exactly like yourself, who came to the convention for action, but had no idea how to get it. Which means the biggest impediments to getting an anime girl are feminine boys and losers, and hey wait, isn’t that why we’re infiltrating this community? Aren’t all these feminine boys and losers the things we’re counting on to seem fuckable by comparison? At least, and see if you can tell this is setting up a stunning reveal, they’re not making casual jokes about sex with underage girls…
Here’s a proverb for you, Night Kid$: If your advice about sleeping with children adorably rhymes, you’re definitely one unattended kid away from sex crimes.
S-sprite? I don’t know, this is obviously a low effort endeavor by two lonely psychopaths and one terrible husband, but the Night Kid$ sometimes offer practical reminders like how everyone can see you. You can’t just run up to every cosplayer and see if she’s doing it for the unsolicited cock offers. You’ll get a reputation as a thir– oh, the Sprite can clipart represents thirst! Aw, that’s kind of cute, pussy hunter boys.
Immediately after telling you to take it easy and pick your targets to avoid a reputation as a creep, the authors hit you with the desperate pep talk every pickup artist eventually gives: we don’t know how any of this works– you need to show your dick to everyone you see and hope one of them recently lost a bet and the conditions were having sex with the very next penis they saw.
Things are probably going great. You’ve learned not to wear poop, not to waste time searching men for vaginas, and to obtain anime knowledge. But these tips aren’t fool-proof. The Night Kid$ include some DEATH FLAGS to help detect ladies immune to deodorant and anime knowledge. Watch out for these! Has a boyfriend. Ignores you. Keeps turning away. Face doesn’t look like flashcards your childhood therapist showed you for “happy.”
Seventy pages into the book and the Night Kid$ finally give the reader some actionable advice. They list five real questions you could ask a girl! Four of them are the most common things said out loud at a convention and the fifth is aggressive sexual harassment, but at least they’re not telling the reader they should try being hot next to a drawing of a dripping wet school girl. I honestly think childlike begging for oral sex is a step in the right direction for these authors.
Ladies, I know most of you know this, but according to U.S. Chapter 7 Code § 2260, if your partner tells you to “prepare to Cubone,” you are legally complicit in a federal crime if you don’t chemically dissolve their genitals within one half hour of hearing it.
Hmm… My mother gave me such chlamydia. Here’s a sack of Nazi diarrhea! Sorry, you must be confused. I’m trying to come up with a six word phrase more destructive to a person’s love life than saying “a whole gang of anime bitches.” I strangle sexy dogs to death? I.. I don’t think you can do it.
In the WHAT HAPPENS NEXT? section, the authors continue describing all the ways this quest could end with each one getting sadder and sadder. Your potential victory goes from true love to sex rampage to convincing a woman to settle on you to a platonic cartoon buddy to a bloody butcher knife to a drawing you can masturbate to. Self-aware or not, it is, without question, the most perfect way to end this indoor kid’s guide to beginner humaning. A stunning artistic achievement. They imagined an entire world of overweight, unwashed anime nerds where they could be sexual mentors, and even in that fantasy, their students died alone, dumped into the ocean with a clumsy Pokemon reference. It was worth all 90 pages of their pathetic horniness and cool dad l33t speak for this amazing, immaculate ending.
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This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Sarcophski, who started off a total Nerdoran but evolved into a real Chadizard using the ultimate Psychic-type attack: Respect for women.