Category: LEARNING DAY

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LEARNING DAY

Let’s Read: How to Dominate Women

Today on Learning Day, we’re looking at a book called How to Dominate Women. Regular 1900hotdoggers might be asking, “How to Dominate Women? Why isn’t this book being looked at on Fucking Day?” I’ll tell you why: because whoever wrote this book has never been laid in his life. This book is a eulogy to the crankiest man’s shriveled genitals. If you found a baby at the bottom of a pool and asked its remains to write a book on swimming, the first draft of its manuscript would be more helpful than How to Dominate Women.

The author, Gary Brodsky, has published many more books on picking up women. One uses charm, one uses mind control, one uses CIA black-op tactics, and three use actual magic. And if you’re trying to use sorcery to get pussy, you’re not doing it because your fun and engaging personality worked. He’s also published one book that is literally tips for sociopaths trying to get revenge, so I guess when Gary Brodsky gets this Google alert I need to watch out for a lonely elderly man trying to key my car.

Here are some of Gary’s greatest hits, and this might shock you, but all of them are self-published. There’s almost a sadness to someone putting this much work into a career that made no one any money and helped zero people. On the other hand, Gary Brodsky’s desperate fantasy is that magic is real and you should use it for sexual assault. The only thing Gary seems competent at is making sure every single book he publishes, no matter what the subject matter, immediately looks like the self-published book of a madman. Does every lunatic saving their manifesto to pdf know the same graphic designer?

How to Dominate Women was written in 2002, around the same time teen pregnancy dropped dramatically in the U.S.. I’m not saying they are related, but I honestly don’t know how to study how well a book on crushing ass works. Spend a lifetime being Gary Brodsky and then compare numbers with a different ugly guy to see if he can top three, five if you count hand stuff, and one of them was half-Blonde?

The book starts by declaring women your enemy, which isn’t a healthy way to start a relationship, but it does help dehumanize them. And dehumanizing women is a necessary step if your main move is going to be rubbing your balls on them until one finally says, “I’m going to let you keep doing this and also not call the police.”

I should also mention Gary sort of fancies himself the Tim Allen of disco lurkers. So, yes, he would absolutely force a woman to have sex with him using any means real or imaginary, and writes books explicitly stating this, but it’s all obscured with what he thinks is just enough irony. He also thinks modern men should get a lot more credit for how easily cavemen could beat up cavewomen, but weirdly enough, I don’t think he’s joking during that part.

Now, dominators, let’s get into the goddamn domination.

The thing that’s great about Gary is he yada-yadas his way through something as immensely complicated as introducing yourself to the woman you’re stalking, making her comfortable, and keeping her attention. By the nature of what you’re doing and the books you read, this will be almost impossible, but Gary is like, “Okay, you got this, let’s skip to the part where she’s taking off her panties.” And then the part that’s deadass simple, not letting her make decisions, Gary repeats and repeats. It’s a perfect example of his mentality– attack every crotch like a Soviet propagandist and good things are sure to happen.

Let’s see more of his tactics in action!

Gary once again skips past how to get a girl’s number to get to the part where you psychologically abuse her with it. He’s literally berating the reader for not being rude enough to a fictional girl in this cliche gambit to damage her self esteem. This reveals two things about Gary: his best case scenario is a girl who is so fragile she “will begin to become frenzied” after the creepiest man she ever gave her number to is 30 minutes late calling. I worry such a woman doesn’t exist, and if she does, she’s already been snatched up by the horny pervert who called her at 9:29.

The other thing it reveals about Gary is he doesn’t know what he’s doing. You can disagree on the effectiveness of his tactics, but when the second chapter in your book on lady domination is about waiting to call her back,  and you seem to think you both invented the idea and that it makes you awesome, you’re legally a fucking idiot. Good or bad, there’s no pickup tip more basic than that. That was a tired trope in ’80s sitcoms. Our great-grandfathers didn’t call our great-grandmothers back to try to lower their self esteem enough for casual sex. Quakers on the Mayflower delayed correspondence to frenzy their potential lovers, Gary. You dumbass, no pussy-getting sack of paper-thin confidence.

There are, no bullshit, eight more pages explaining the concept of not calling a girl back. Gary has all the wisdom of someone outwitting an unlimited toppings salad bar who has never eaten or met a salad. Let’s move on to the third chapter, which is called THE SEDUCTIVE APPROACH: WALKING THE WALK/TALKING THE TALK.

When all you do is stay inside and type books about how you would fuck chicks if you had magic, you can sort of create any world view you want. And Gary, for some reason, fantasizes about a world where super hot girls go for ugly ass “big-eared bananas.”

In Gary’s fantasy world, for some reason, money has nothing to do with a lady’s choice in men. He does argue against himself to bring up how women are shallow, money-grabbing subhumans, but the first Gary easily wins the argument by ignoring the second Gary and the final decision is clear: the ugly, broke men with the beautiful women have something going for them other than looks or money. What could it be!? C-clothes? Is it maybe stylish clothes and cologne?

Oh shit, I was way off. So Gary’s secret is… your approach. This must be, like, an attitude that governs all your decisions and interactions… a coolness in everything you do. I guess that makes sense.

Wait, wait, holy fucking shit. When Gary said approach he meant, like, a person’s physical approach!? This chapter called “WALKING THE WALK” is about actual walking!? Does Gary think these hot girls are following ugly guys around because they once entered a room with the perfect amount of aloofness?

I can’t… I know this guy has been wrong before, but could it really be that simple?

Update: It was. Seven minutes of strut practice and I fucked fucking everything. End of article.

Categories
LEARNING DAY

WikiHow: How To Manifest Your Desires 🌭

I want a lot of things: safety and security for my family, a fulfilling and rewarding career, an enormous and profane cannon with which I can revenge myself upon my enemies. The problem is getting them. I have no idea how to get any of those things! Cautious economic planning? Shameless networking? Magic? Is it magic? Let’s try magic. 

Right off the bat, that seems like a lot of hedging for a how-to article on psychic powers. If you’re willdy uncertain that magic exists, maybe you’re not the wizard to pen the spellbook, yeah? I have personally dated eight goth girls with more confidence in their spellwork than this guide. But this is WikiHow: Where everything is really just a best guess from somebody whose only actual skill is writing WikiHow guides, and even that is debatable.

This already sucks.

I’ll tell you what I wanted out of this guide: 

I wanted comically overly-simplified instructions about how to wield magical amulets.

I wanted one of those shitty cartoon WikiHow tracings depicting a man who has wronged me now withering away to nothing. 

I wanted this whole thing to start off with a dire warning about using your psychic powers to manifest a tulpa even you cannot defeat. 

Instead you gave me a B- yoga student thinking her one thought of the day, and a picture of homework.  I am not doing homework.

Yep, that’s homework. If homework was magic, I would have done up to three magics in my life so far. I’m not writing essays about how cool wishes would be. That’s genie fanfiction without the eroticism and eroticism is everything in genie fanfiction. Fuck it, I’m trying a new guide.

Oh shit, that is way better. I understand it even less, if that’s possible, but we’re zero paragraphs in and I’m pretty sure the author is trying to warn me about negative energy demons. Listen, buddy, I have salt, iron, and unearned confidence. This is not my first time whispering Azazel forty-two times into the ear of a rutting goat. I’m looking up spells on WikiHow — I know they’re going to go wrong. Frankly, I’m counting on it.

Fuck yes! Shoddy WikiHow illustrations of psychic ghosts! You’re still selling me the house when I’m already knocking down walls, but okay. Double sold!

Right. Every idea I have is a thoughtbomb I can use to terrorize the future. I completely get 100% of what you’re saying, and I really just want to get to the part where we start making the ransom calls.

Step two, and I’m already psychically projecting bank fraud. Man, eat unclean ass, How to Manifest Your Desires. I can only imagine How to Manifest ANYTHING was written purely out of spite by a rival magician who doesn’t get fireballs confused with midterms. Somebody needs to read the WikiHow on How Not to Suck Shit, and I think it’s you, How To Manifest Your Desires.

God fucking damn it. 

I believed in you, How to Manifest Anything! We were right there! When your wife, Mrs. How to Manifest Anything, tells you she’s about to come, you pull out to go make spaghetti. And when that spaghetti is just shy of al dente, you throw it in the garbage and eat flour out of the bag. Fuck you forever, How to Manifest Anything. At least your shitty brother, How to Manifest Your Desires, had the decency to suck hard and early.

You know what? Let’s stop beating around the bush. I was hoping to do this without alerting the Mystical FBI that monitors my internet activity, but fuck it — hi Agent Bramblebeard, I’m looking up curses. 

My chief motivator is and has always been revenge, but they won’t sell you a firearm after you write that down on the application, so:

This guide is all business, and it talks about curses like they’re hedge funds. Yes, I absolutely do want to see a high return on my voodoo. Please help me, Bank Witch.

A crappy cartoon tracing of a man withering away to nothing! 

How to Put a Curse on Someone, you truly get me.

That has to be in the running for Most Hardcore WikiHow Illustration. That dude is getting straight-up Thinner-ed and that’s just something you don’t see in How to Bounce a Ball (In Front of Men). 

Wait, holy shit — it’s the dire warning about magic turning on you!

I don’t trust any spell guide that doesn’t warn you about buzzkill wizards using Reflect. There’s even an illustration!

I’m not
 I’m not sure what it’s trying to tell me. 

It looks like maybe the “cool bagboy” at Whole Foods tried to clone himself and then Acid Blast the evidence away once he was done fucking it, but he didn’t count on DoppleBrynt’s magic-resistant abs. I get the gist, I guess, but I don’t think that’s as universally approachable as you seem to believe, WikiHow. I’m sure that’s just Police Code 137 in Berkeley, but the Heartland Warlocks will never relate.

Wait is it
?

Magic. Fucking. Amulet.

This is the one part I’m already prepared for: I purchased my magic amulet last week from what I assume was a mystical minority. I’m not
 exactly sure which kind of minority. Does it matter which kind? His name was Serg and he was wearing a lot of fringe, so I’m pretty sure he had magic powers, but he might’ve just been Russian. 

Listen, this is Remedial Witching 95, I’m sure it’ll be fine.

I love the DIY sensibility of Dark Arts WikiHow. They’ll never just tell you to harvest dirt from beneath the hooves of copulating oxen — they’ll include tips for making your own from charcoal and fleshlight leavings. Also it is very good to know that pickles are cursed. I have always secretly believed them to be foul magic by the way they make everything they touch taste like pickles, but I was unwilling to independently research that fact.

Okay cool, it is not my first day at Piss Jar Academy but it’s been so long since somebody assumed that, I’m honestly just flattered. This is a lot of preparation, and you know the best part? No homework. All I’m doing is cobbling together my Mystical Recycling in preparation for a psychic hate blast. I haven’t had to write a single-

I am immeasurably disappointed and my sadness is only exceeded by my white hot fury. 

You’d better hope I don’t find “Start Blood Bending Today!” on eHow or else I am coming back here with a nasty scrape and murder in my heart.

Once again, I have bought a hemp necklace from a Muscovite and pissed in a pickle jar for nothing. This is my fault: I should really learn to finish reading my curses before performing them. It’s literally the only lesson Evil Dead tried to teach me, and I did not take it to heart.

If I had scanned to the bottom of How to Put a Curse on Someone, I wouldn’t have wasted my time. It’s never a good sign when the last steps are all about trying to pretend like your curse worked by practicing the Dark Art of Minor Harassment.

Followed by a dire warning that you shouldn’t try Magically Negging your bully about this whole curse scenario…

Because “How to Throw a Bitchin’ Uppercut” doesn’t assign any fucking homework.

Categories
LEARNING DAY

How to Be a Way Cool Grandfather

“Rad, Dad, that’s bad!” my 10-year-old grandson exclaimed. Those are the opening words to 1996’s HOW TO BE A WAY COOL GRANDFATHER. Verne Steen had handed a homemade toy to his grandson, a child unable to tell the difference between his father and grandfather and screaming stilted slang from the wrong decade. They are the words that inspired Verne to think, “I will publish a book to teach other grandparents to be this way cool.” It’s a stupid tale made mostly of holes which, as you’ll see, makes it the book’s perfect origin story.

First off, Verne wants to make sure you know what this book is not. It will not teach you how to MTV rock ‘n’ roll or Internet fad or ass eating, whatever those things are. It is a nothing-fancy collection of crafting projects for boys, that’s fucking it, and Verne spends 24 pages apologizing for it in his introduction. He has a section called “My Chauvinism” about how pissed you must be if you’re a grandma reader and how you can cure it by fucking yourself. He mentions many, many times how nothing about any of this is “cool,” it’s just a dumb name and you should maybe just move on from the title he chose, okay? Whatever this book is, Verne needs us to know it’s absolutely not going to be cool. Here’s the tail end of it if you want your expectations properly lowered:

So now that you understand this is pretty male-oriented and honestly not super cool, let’s get started!

Verne did as much as he could to keep us from expecting “way cool,” but this is an elderly man carving homemade kazoos out of drinking straws and calling them “tooters.” He’s just making garbage more noisy. If making garbage more noisy was cool, Creed would have a gong player and he would fuck.

I have no notes on this one. Making a gun out of a clothespin is something way cool MacGyver would do to foil a K-Mart robbery, which is also a way cool point of reference a grandfather might have.

A slingshot is a nice upgrade to what you’ve already armed the children with, but I’m starting to wonder what activities require this many projectile weapons. Is Verne tricking his grandkids into guarding his bird feeder from squirrels? Is he secretly preparing them to defend points of entry against an FBI raid? I just think it’s suspicious that two of grandpa’s first three ideas are weapons and the one that isn’t fucking sucks. Let’s see what his next “cool” project is…

Of course. Verne only owns three mugs. One says “Ask Me About My Grandkids!” The other says, “Ask Me About My Grandkids’ Missing Eyes!” And the last one says, “If You Can Read This You’re Being Hunted by My One-Eyed Grandkids!” The moment you lose sight of Verne’s grandchildren in a JoAnn’s Fabric, you can be sure they’re behind you loading a knitting needle into an improvised harpoon gun.

Verne, they’re playing in the backyard, not escaping a POW camp. They don’t need a seventeenth primitive hunting tool. I’m sure you and 1996 didn’t agree a lot on child safety regulations, but you can’t just carve everything in a kid’s life into a murder weapon and call it a book. This is getting crazy. Is he trying to thin these kids out so it’s easier to remember all their names? They fucking have enough weapons, Verne!

Okay, good. HOW TO BE A WAY COOL GRANDFATHER isn’t entirely dedicated to helping children shoot each other. This is a sonic weapon instead of a projectile one. Why would a kid need a noisy whistle used to frighten your enemies before you kill them? Well, for one, it opens up a dialog between you and your grandchildren about the power of intimidation in a land war. I don’t know exactly how old Verne is, but if you asked an australopithecus to write a how-to book, it would look identical to this.

At a certain point in your toy-making process, one of your grandchildren is going to ask you to stop and look down at the lawn full of deadly weapons you’ve made and say, “Grandpa, I think a big part of you is still back in Vietnam.”

Jesus Christ, Verne. This one isn’t even pretending to be a toy. What are we fucking doing here? Whatever you’re arming these children for, they’re ready!

V-Verne? What the fuck am I looking at here? Toothpick Springer? So it shoots toothpicks… wait, burning toothpicks? You’re just making Blair Witch shit that explodes into fiery splinters for your 6-year-old grandchildren? This is crazy, but I have to say, it’s also cool as shit.

You might be wondering why a child soldier book so plainly written by a traumatized survivor of a man-hunting safari would include a Safety Concerns section with each project. Wouldn’t anyone with even a passing interest in safety write a book on literally anything else? Look, I can’t decipher the full mystery of Cool Grandpa Verne. But I can let you know that most of the Safety Concerns sections look like this:

In conclusion, teach your children to turn trash into weapons; it should be fine. And upon reflection, this book was written 24 years ago… a lot of Verne’s grandkids had to have killed sixty or seventy men by now. Okay, bye!

Categories
LEARNING DAY

Jack Horkheimer – Star Hustler 🌭

Jack Horkheimer: Star Hustler was a PBS mini-show about amateur stargazing, and not an obscenely pornographic science fiction rock opera. Not until I finish writing it, anyway. 

Star Hustler was a quirky little educational show hosted by a nice old man who just happened to have an obscene sounding last name, and used a word in their title whose meaning changed over the years. It’s not like astronomers in the 1970s were a swingin’ bunch of fuckdorks who filled planetariums with their Laser Orgies and jammed telescopes you could use to see the fabric of the universe straight up their assholes. 

It was not that. 

It just really looked like that. 

He just really looked like that:

Showrunners even had to change the name in the late ‘90s — it became Jack Horkheimer: Star Gazer, and while Jack Horkheimer: Star Gazer still fucks, it doesn’t fuck sideways and twice at once like Jack Horkheimer: Star Hustler. 

There’s just one problem: All of that is bullshit.

Maybe the word ‘hustler’ didn’t have perverse connotations until the magazine launched back in — let’s check, 1974? And Star Hustler started in 1976? Huh, that’s weird timing, isn’t it? Well, let’s ignore it. Before Hustler Magazine gave the word pornographic connotations, it could mean one of two things: Minor conman, or prostitute.

There is no scenario where these people named their show Jack Horkheimer: Star Hustler with big ol’ innocent cartoon eyes unblemished by both cocaine and semen.

The series seriously, no joke, opened with this poem:

Some people hustle pool,

Some people hustle cars,

Now here’s that man you’ve heard about,

The man who hustles stars

You cannot be more explicit than that, at least until the kids leave the planetarium and ‘Stars After Dark: Thick Thursday’ kicks into gear. 

So the opening of every show straight up says that Jack Horkheimer is a space criminal and then he rolls into the episode like this:

That’s the third pimpest thing I’ve ever seen, and that’s only because I have led a shockingly pimp-rich life. I’m not using that word in the slang sense, either — I mean Jack Horkheimer literally looks like he runs prostitutes. You put a red fur coat and aquarium shoes on that man and he’s MCing the next Player’s Ball.

But that’s just how The Hork does it:

He spends the whole show zipping about in increasingly hilarious ways, and while that’s not technically listed under “pimpalicious” in The Pimp’s Almanac, it is very much in the same spirit. Dude is one shatter-wipe to a red convertible away from a Bad Boy Records video. 

Here he is shatter-wiping to a red convertible.

The elevator pitch for the Hork’s show was “5 quick minutes of naked eye stargazing,” and that’s also how he asks you to watch him masturbate. His episodes were full of weirdly suggestive titles that took their cues from romance novels, like:

Which sounds like a naive young woman about to discover fantasy horsecock. Notice it ends in an ampersand. Here’s part two:

I don’t know what that means but I am sure it’s a sex crime, Hork.

I’m sorry, that’s disrespectful. According to a profile piece on Horkheimer he prefers that:

“…friends call him “His Horkiness.”

You look that man up there straight in the eye, and you picture him saying “please, call me His Horkiness.” 

Now, be honest with me: in your mind’s eye, is he wearing pants? No, he is not. Is he wearing a jaunty little bowtie specifically tailored for his penis? Yes, of course he is.

‘Star nerd’ just seems like a weird career match for the living avatar of 1973, right? Astronomer isn’t an inherently perverse profession like ‘disc jockey’ or ‘nightclub jazz musician’ or one of those theater directors who are just a little too excited about amatuer nudity on stage. 

All of which Hork was:

“Before becoming a disc jockey and nightclub jazz organist
 he dabbled in theater, and once threatened to sue his university if one of his plays – a ribald, nudity-laced comedy called “If the Shoe Fits, Eat It” – wasn’t put on (it was).” 

Jack Horkheimer was a space skeeve, I defy all rebuttals. I do not yield my time! 

“Horkheimer dabbles in bonds, has an American Express Gold Card and belongs to the Playboy Club.”

The Playboy Club membership suggests I’m on the right track here, but it’s that Gold AmEx that really seals the deal. That is the shag-carpeted hot tub of 1970s credit cards. You can choose the picture on a Gold AmEx but only from a selection of vulgar ukiyo-e prints. That card has a special lubrication strip just for sliding it through asscheeks.

“[Hork] wears a $10 electric watch and a ring set with a second-century BC bronze coin from the reign of Ptolemy VI of Egypt. He has a heavy metal plaque embossed with the word “HUSTLER” on his key ring.” 

Just existing like this is a crime in the less funky states. There are heavy fines in Delaware for wearing jewelry that gaudy. You get two years for a HUSTLER keyring in Connecticut. In Rhode Island, it’s the death penalty. There is a 97% chance that the keys on that ring fit into a Rambler RV with Uranus airbrushed onto the side. There is a 104% chance that Hork calls it “the Rimbler.”

“[Hork] drinks only champagne, which he buys 10 cases at a time, in vintages varying from cheap, oversweet Andre to dry, costly MoĂ«t & Chandon. He makes champagne cocktails by pouring the bubbly over a lump of sugar laced with Angostura bitters, and laps them up delicately, cat-like, one after another.”

If somebody said that shit in a literal documentary about pimps, you would laugh, because it’s too pimpin’. I am not praising, or even endorsing his behavior, but I hope I have left no doubts in your mind that Jack Horkheimer: Star Hustler taught the repressed PBS set about watersports and perhaps (double)handedly dicked astronomy into the public consciousness.

Hork out.

Categories
LEARNING DAY

Let’s Read: The Goth Scene

Fart Pants is no name for a grandmother, and listen: most baby turtles die knowing only the unforgiving talons of sea birds. Hi, you might be thinking, “Well, this is certainly the weirdest, saddest introduction I’ll read today!” You’re right, unless you read this, the actual introduction to the book Everything You Need to Know About The Goth Scene:

What? What the fuck is this book about teen fashion trends talking about? Well, The Goth Scene was published in 2000, when the blame for Columbine was still trying to fall on something or anything and that very much included Goths. So this book, this insane goddamn book, seems to have been written to reassure everyone the Columbine shooters were not Goths and how despite their spookiness, Goths hardly ever murder. That being said, The Need to Know Library is not a book series about safe hobbies for best friends. Its other titles include WHEN A PARENT DIES, WINDSURFING, INCEST, MONONUCLEOSIS, TEENS WHO KILL, AIDS, and I was lying about WINDSURFING.

This is a book series about dealing with tragedies or social malignance, which means the publisher considered nerds in capes one of those two things. This book didn’t happen because they decided to “do a fun one” between FAMILY VIOLENCE and TEEN SUICIDE. It was written to identify and hopefully solve The Goth Scene. Its working title was probably How Hard to Panic if Your Shitty Teen is a Dracula.

They had to know it was going to be hard to put an entire book together about a youth fad before it morphed into something entirely different, so they sent in their hippest, most Goth reporter– Kerry Acker. Kerry was educated at a private Jesuit school and her other works include a biography of Jimmy Carter and a children’s book about backyard animal facts. If anyone could figure out these gloomy countercultural kids, it was the woman who wrote, “Of all these furry foragers, it’s the skunks who are the real stinkers!”

So it looks like Kerry started by looking up “Goth” in an encyclopedia. There is a lot of information about ancient Goths and their irrelevance to the modern Goth scene. This is like ESPN dedicating an entire episode of its Michael Jordan docuseries to a different man named Michael Jordan in Tampa. “I’ve actually gone by Wally Jordan since I was about six. I’ve seen most of Space Jam, though,” says Michael “Wally” Jordan, as he shows a documentary crew his collection of Qui-Gon Jinn Burger King cups. “Qui-Gon has been a big part of my life ever since my asshole fell out in a car detailing accident. Hey, why do you guys keep asking me about basketball?”

Holy shit, she’s still going. Kerry’s Altavista search for “goth” gave her enough material for several more pages of amazingly pointless facts about things that have a similar name, but are otherwise unrelated to the subject of her book. She seems to think the reader has picked up a book featuring an awkward teenager and thought, “Goth? Like medieval Gothic architecture? No, apparently not, but here is three pages on the subject anyway. Ah, stone gargoyles were common? Now I get Columbine.”

It took a couple dozen pages, but we’re now getting to the important Goth facts. For instance, they love relaxing in mysterious cemeteries. I have to be honest, this wasn’t ever my scene, but I think Kerry nailed it. Goths (probably) love holding crafting parties on human graves. It’s impossible to know if she based her facts on guesses she made after watching Tim Burton movies or if the local teens she interviewed were fucking with her.

I half expect to find a page where Kerry just says, “I’m watching Interview with a Vampire and I bet Goths dress exactly like Tom Cruise in this movie. Ha ha those little Nosferatu clowns totally do full Tom Cruise vampire cosplay every day.”

Oh, fuck. I was kidding! Come on, Kerry.

Kerry writes a lot about vampires being a big part of the Goth lifestyle and I don’t know enough about it to know if she’s wrong. But I do have my doubts this very square woman writing about a teen fad is right when she makes the same obvious observation a dumb idiot would make from a first impression of those teens. It feels like writing a book about Star Wars and saying, “Stoic Jedi leader Qui-Gon Jinn appeals mainly to Trekkies (as they are known in the fandom) who have butthole injuries.”

It’s fine, even normal, if your Goth is fascinated with the mystery of death. But if your Goth is killing animals, they “probably need psychological help.” And if your Goth is levitating over a dead animal, infused with the power given them by its living blood, stay calm and go to Chapter One: Gothic Architectural Features and Locksmiths in Your County Whose Names Start with “Goth-“.  There is a short section before the Siouxsie and the Banshees bio that explains how to bless a dagger.

No, shit, you went too far. Go back, go back!

No, this is from the section explaining Witchcraft. No, I have no idea if Paganism is Goth! The book doesn’t say, but if I had to put money on it, NO! The entire Wicca section from this already vague Goth book would be worse than useless even if we weren’t urgently trying to find the key to defeating a blood-hungry Goth! Please hurry!

If you’re not going to take this seriously, we are going to die.

Is this it? I… no, this is the very start of the Vampirism section where Kerry explains how it’s a common misconception that Goths are so stupid they think vampires are real. This is not always true. Why, some Goths even find this idea ridiculous. Look, hot dog reader and supporter, I know the conceit of this bit is that we’re being hunted by a vampire empowered by pet blood as we flip through a book together, but I want to pause here so we can enjoy how the author of The Goth Scene has an actual section on Vampirism and she reassures you most Goths know vampires aren’t real five times in the first five sentences. It’s really important to her you know they know that. I’ve written maybe more than anyone about insane bullshit, but I don’t know if I’ve ever had as much contempt for or misunderstanding of a subject matter as Kerry Acker has for Goths.

Now, let’s get back to finding a solution to our vampire problem.

This is… okay, this is officially the least amount of helpful information any book has ever contained about a subject. I’m starting to think it was a dumb idea to hire a Christian raccoon expert to ask 1999’s World Wide Web “what Goth?” It’s fucking ludicrous. It’s as dumb as hiring Wally Jordan to write a book about Hiding Gambling Losses from Charles Barkley’s Wife– wait, no. It was fine the way it was. It’s as dumb as hiring a Christian raccoon expert to write about The Goth Scene.

Categories
LEARNING DAY

The Star SAFEty Coloring Book 🌭