Nerd No More

Sorry for the delay on this one folks, I was trying desperately to get this one rant going that in the end I just butchered it entirely and got nothing from it so I’m going to drop that there for now and move on to something completely different. Now then, I’ve never really considered myself as part of any social grouping so to speak – not strong and sexy enough to be a jock, but with just enough basic hygiene and luck with women to avoid being pushed in with the nerds. However, I’m starting to wonder about the latter and just what it means – the word ‘nerd’ is a parody of itself now, a shorthand for enthusiast and loveable uniquity… or so we like to think.

As a child, I of course grew up with the tag of the nerd, the mute child who sat in the corner and drew comics for his own amusement and only ever spoke to give answers to questions that baffled my classmates. Nerd wasn’t a compliment, it meant someone who was the opposite to the desirable social standard of the school structure – unattractive, uncool, unconventional interests. Nerd was a name given to you, not by choice, it branded you as something and it was unshakeable, like geek, dork or freak. Nowadays, however, the word “nerd” is a cool thing to wear as a label with people call themselves a nerdy, myself being guilty of it at times but then I already had the label to start really, since I was six so what’s your excuse? You hear it thrown around a lot – A Doctor Who nerd, A Zelda nerd, A Netflix nerd – it just means enthusiast now ala memology law dictates. You can be a nerd about anything now, from Star Wars to Game of Thrones, and this doesn’t make sense. The term nerd isn’t for a passing interest or even enthusiasm, it’s for obsession to the point of madness. You’re not a nerd for watching Doctor Who, you become a nerd if you can recite all the actors to have ever played the Doctor, even Joanna Lumley, and then go on to state their causes of regeneration and reasons the actors themselves left. A nerd isn’t a fan or a big fan, they’re determined to know all there is to know about the fandom until they feel disconnected from the casual fans and ruin it for them by shouting at them for not knowing enough. Sure, nerds tend to like comic book heroes and collectible Japanese monsters but everyone did as a kid, the nerd just took that like and made it into love.

As well as this, the media has portrayed “nerdy” as the new buzz word for sex appeal. Look at your brainy characters in TV today, your Sheldons and Sherlocks, your Zooey Deschanel playing the endearingly awkward Jess. Nowadays, the TV is telling you that being socially inept makes you sexy and cute and these “nerdy” characters aren’t played by buck-toothed wimps with center parted fringes, they’re attractive people in reality and it glorifies this stereotype that being smart but awkward is stunning. Bullshit, I never had dozens of admirers marvelling at my aloof nature, they all thought I was a pretentious little dweep. The typical nerd isn’t a tall slender well-dressed know-it-all who has an endearing quirk of knocking three times, he’s the kid in the corner who smells funny and can’t kick a ball to save his life. You love your nerds served tall dark and sexy with a handful of behaviours you laugh at on TV but in reality, you’d hate someone who did that. Imagine actually living with Sheldon or Sherlock, not the actors, the characters. Could you live with a man who has a set period of bathroom time and reprimands you for any slight deviation from his schedule, even if you had a good reason? No, I doubt you’d enjoy it. Smart is the new sexy but in all honesty, the smartest members of our population don’t do sexy or by god Stephen Hawking would be drowning in womanly bits.

Of course, the true death of the nerd came about when it became a fashion. Thick black square frame glasses, tweed jackets becoming cool again, ironic t-shirt sales shooting through the roof. Oh what’s that, a Harry Potter shirt? Oh god you’re so awesome, you’re a Hufflepuff too? Mmmm have my babies now! Oh you wear a bow tie? Fucking gorgeous, I must ravage your body until it explodes. Nerdiness is a fashion statement now, you wear your geek slogans on your chest with a fez on your head and comic strip shoes on your feet. As a young child, I had no say in my dress sense, my mother dressed me up identical to my brothers so we were all matching little cherubs for her to trot about proudly. You know, the whole cute little suits and ties, matching sailor shirts and such? Yup, me until age eight at which point Dad took charge and stopped dressing us so my brothers and I just ended up wearing whatever we wanted. Wasn’t cool stuff though, I did not get the jealous glances from the other guys when I showed the ladies Mewtwo was on my chest. I wore shirts that had Pokemon all over them, tucked into my pants and big round glasses and I thought I was dressed to kill, not because I was fashionable but because I had a freaking great Charizard on my tummy, outta my way bitches! Nowadays, the nerd shirt is a commercial item and it sells hot for high prices with websites dedicated to getting shirts with Weeping Angels or Bilbo Baggins on them. If something anti-mainstream like being a nerd becomes a fashion, it dies. You can buy tie dyed shirts now, no need to make them so now you can buy your way into being a pseudo-hippie. You can buy a Hell’s Angels jacket online, no need to earn it through beating a mod into a bloody pulp with a rotted rope. You can deck your wardrobe out with moustache jumpers and fake glasses, no need to have these given to you by your Mum because she couldn’t afford better. If it’s a fashion, it’s dead as a way of being unique.

The nerd is cute now, it sells you this endearing underdog story of hardship and awkwardness but in the end the nice guy wins and the busty blonde sleeps with the asthmatic dork who wears white briefs at age 28. The nerd is a socially inept train-wreck in reality but if you buy into the media hype, the nerd prevails over all with his cuteness. Being a nerd is such a big thing that you can be accused of ‘faking’ it, not being a true nerd. Erhem, excuse me but what? I don’t remember that being a thing, when did people aspire to be like me or the kid who has teeth that can pick up Jazz FM? The nerd group isn’t this all-accepting circle of love and joy, it’s a branding iron for the misfits and we united to survive and to trade Yu-Gi-Oh cards, not because we wanted it for ourselves. I didn’t deny the hot blondes to go hang out with the fat sweaty kids because I love having my Game Boy smell of BO, I was pushed there because the hot blonde didn’t want to be seen dead with a guy who pointed his pencil at doors and make a noise to pretend to unlock them. I don’t hate people for identifying with this label of nerd now, even if they weren’t called one at the age of five by the big kids, but just remember what us nerds really are. We are annoying, out of place and most of us carry an insulin pen or inhaler, we’re not a club to beg to join and even if you did, we probably wouldn’t want you unless you had Arceus ready and waiting to trade with us. That’s what being a nerd is – an obsessive and crazed fan who has no choice but to reside in a virtual world and feel like a king there because in truth, they’re an annoying, smelly and weird little kid nobody picks for sports. That was my childhood, that was what it meant for me, to be a nerd.


No Need To Pout

First impressions are probably one of the most important aspects of social interaction and it is generally understood that upon meeting a new face, both parties have fifteen seconds to form an opinion of one another based on outward appearances and how each party conducts themselves. For example, if a man in a shabby coat plodded up to you with the stench of alcohol on his breath, food in his beard and a bottle in his hand, your first thoughts would probably be that this man is an alcoholic with nothing much in his life beyond being an alcoholic and as he rambled onto you about how he needs five pounds and you desperately try to claw him off like you’re a schizophrenic cat, his initial thoughts of you would probably be that you’re an uptight sod and that you just don’t understand how badly he needs those five pounds.

With that in mind, I often find that some people on social networking sites choose to present themselves to the world with an expression commonly known as ‘the duck face’, a facial expression that looks less like a sexy pout and more like you said a word out of line and got a fat lip for it. I know what you’re thinking, I choose to introduce myself to the world as a loud mouthed fool but at least I’m being honest. You might think it funny that not too long ago I was writing about gender equality and now I’m ranting at women who present themselves as puckering prats but I have recently been ranting at the expense of male flaws (swagger) so now both genders are equal in my scorn. Suck an egg.

So what’s the big problem? A lot of girls constantly do ridiculous things to give exaggerated first impressions of themselves so why get in a huff if they pucker up for the camera? Well, let’s think about the most obvious reason shall we? You look bloody stupid, you kiss-faced clod (I’m taking the insult dictionary up the arse for all it’s got, so sue me you shmuck). I don’t see how it appeals to anyone to be honest, being a man who has never looked at a duck with eyes of passion and the burning desire to make that beaked bitch my… bitch I suppose, there isn’t a more fitting word there. I know the pout is supposed to be all ‘Ooo we’ve got a bad girl on our hands fellas, cocks out at dawn and scramble for the finishing line of her vagina!’ but honestly, if you’re pouting so hard you look like you were caught practising your French kissing technique on a hoover, then that is a sign that you’re doing it wrong.

Now there’s the counter argument that Freddy Mercury pulls the look off and whilst this is true, as much as it is true that you are not a duck, you are also not Freddy Mercury. I’m sorry, he’s a musical god and unless my blog has somehow reached Steve Tyler or the like, you are not. I’d like to tell you all that pouts can be quite fetching, but your expression is as important a cosmetic feature as eye-shadow and mascara in making you look the business and, in the same way that painting your face in enough foundation that your interior decorator rubs his brushes on your face to get the right shade of orange for the kitchen, pouting to the point where the ducks in the river gather before you as their monarch is counter-productive to the look you are aiming for. Subtlety can be as sexually attractive as being full-on and a small pouting of the lips gets a guy in much more of a flutter than sticking your lips out further than the rest of your face. I mean, some of you do enough stupid undignified positions in photos, standing on one leg with your ass popped out to the side like your spine is shaped like a disfigured snake, so why you feel the need to add a cheap cherry to a crumby cake of stupidity is beyond my comprehension.

I think we can agree that of all my rants, this is probably not as venomous or as serious an issue to get up in arms about but hey, this is all a big joke at the end of the day and to be frank, I’m finding it difficult to get these things to work out in writing as well as they sound in my head. I have an idea for next time though, so don’t worry, this old man of ranting hasn’t hit the senility of being a cynic where he writes for hours on end that cereal is too damn soggy (For one reason, I hold the firm belief that all cereal is actually made from pencil sharpenings). I want to give a good note to end on for you duck-facers… whatever… and that is that in reality, there is a very attractive facial expression you can pull in any photo and that everyone will approve of. Smile. Ironic advice coming from Git McSourcunt but there you have it, the sage of cynicism told you to smile. Deal with it bitches.

Of Twats and Men

First things first, I cottoned onto the idea that half of you had ages ago and that was the idea that Google Chrome is vastly superior to Mozilla Firefox and Internet Explorer as a general rule; the whole thing runs smoother than it used to back in the day when loading up your Facebook profile was as painful a process as shoving your own fist up your arse until you’ve punched yourself in the spleen. I like Google Chrome and it’s aesthetic niceties in regards to fully customisable colour schemes and backgrounds for new tabs but my favourite thing besides faster loading screens is that ‘In-Private Browsing’ is called going incognito, such a funny thought. You aren’t secretly jerking it in a history-free window of the internet but are in fact a mysterious super spy stealthily slipping out a sly one without leaving a single bit of evidence. Ironically, believe it or not, I haven’t actually done that yet.

Anyway, getting onto the main topic for discussion today, this is a funny rant for a change because I feel it makes a change of pace from hearing me discuss my life at length like the scene kid began monologuing aloud instead of to his wrist. I find there is a lot to rant about, but at length it’s about choosing a topic that won’t wear thin by three lines ago so today I’m tackling the difference between swagger and class. Yup, I’m going all snooty on your ass again, looking down my nose at people who wear their hats backwards and walk like a gorilla with the shits otherwise known as the majority of teenagers. You probably know the difference but let’s be honest – The funny rants don’t teach you anything new but rather remind you why you agree/disagree with me on certain matters and make you laugh/sharpen your pitchfork to find me and stab me forty thousand times (Delete as appropriate my dear friend/tosser)

Now let’s cut the crap and skip to the basic definitions of the two groupings shall we? ‘Class’ is used to describe men who walk with an upright spine and a near regal dignity to their every movement as if constantly being observed – like one often is when out in public. ‘Class’ is most notably attached to mods and gangsters (Note – Gangsters are the ones with the fedoras, machine guns and big cigars, not idiots who hold pistols sideways and refer to everything with a pulse as a bitch) and generally is seen as an aspiration for a man to be considered as being classy or distinguished. I like to think that of the two I fit here, with my fashion sense of trench coats, parade shoes and full black suits but then I don’t walk around feeling like I have to make a show of myself or lose face because when I leave the house, I leave the house either dressing for comfort or dressing in what makes me feel good about myself. I’m not ashamed to admit I tingle a little each time I put on a long black coat and leather gloves because I feel like something bigger and more. ‘Class’, by default, is said to be for men, men of presence and character who realise there is a difference between what you think is cool and what is actually cool so it’s seen as a rank above ‘Swagger’ and rightly so in my opinion, which ultimately is the basis for this blog. ‘Class’ is what puts Frank Sinatra fifteen leagues higher up than One Direction or the like, as well as genuine musical talent before the age of digital fix-ups and an imbalance of ability beside eye-candy level.

‘Swagger’, by absolute contrast, is the way of walking and talking used by the mindless drones of mainstream pop culture to appear masculine and intimidating, as if telling the world that you’re ten times tougher than a shark with a buzz-saw in it’s mouth instead of teeth. However, walking with a lunge befitting a man who’s spine resembles a limp noodle and your hand buried in the front of your pants only tells the world two facts about you:

1. You can locate your penis

2. You are as intelligent as a pile of bricks

Seriously, I never understood the gangsta hard boy custom of clutching your crotch like Michael Jackson coated his hand in glue. Are you afraid it will fall off? Fascinated by the texture of pubic hair? Chronically masturbating as you walk? ‘Swagger’ involves moving with the natural sway of the human form and then exaggerating it with every step and is associated with chavs and chinos. Why do bad things start with ‘Ch’ lately? Chavs, chinos, chocolate, Adolf Chit… Ok, fuck that, that was an uphill battle with my feet tied to a rolling log. ‘Swagger’ is what serves as the biggest visual indicator someone is as arrogant as myself but nowhere near as witty or well-delivered. I may be an angry and in-your-face kinda guy but I go about it with long and elaborate rants that you can read at your own leisure or just ignore but someone like Swagger McNobrain blurts in your face like someone fitted a pump action system to a man with explosive diarrhoea.  ‘Swagger’ is sadly, the best thing to be in possession of if you’re 13, going on 5 and still think that if you clutch it tight enough, girls will touch your pee-pee for you. ‘Swagger’ is what we see Justin Bieber aim for, with minimal success and trousers so low he might as well use the space between his arse and the seat of his pants as a storage compartment. ‘Swagger’ can also be in numerical measurements, according to those in possession of it, and is measured out by random selection of numbers bigger than 3. I’m not sure if it relates to how many fashionable branded items you possess or rather how many bullets should be used in your execution when I come to rule over the universe… eventually.

I personally follow the popular opinion that if you pride yourself on your swagger, you’re still a boy with his hand in his pants and his brain in his arse but that a composed gentleman should aspire to conduct himself with class. You tell the world a lot about yourself in the way you hold yourself so make it count. If you walk around with the composure of a drunken chimp, expect to be mistaken for one on occasion. I’ll now carry on walking with my shoulders back ,head high, and a snobbish look to my features because I’m arrogant and the whole world knows it… or should do by now, the number of times I make a point of telling it.

Falling Standards

If you’re reading this, I’m assuming you are of a reasonable intellect and possess the knowledge and ability to dress yourself in a morning without leaving home in the morning wearing nothing but one sock on your hand and pants over your head and so I’m hoping that all of you realise there is a way to wear every piece of clothing you own, including a specific location on the body where it belongs and holes for limbs to pass through to make your job easier. However, the nineties left us with a less than favourable lasting memory, and by that I don’t mean the poorly scripted clip shows of the Fresh Prince of Bel Air. In prisons across the world it is a general rule that a prisoner may not wear a belt as it can be used as a whipping weapon or an improvised noose if things get that bad and so the inmates of these institutions wear loose fitting clothes and can experience a sagging in their trousers. A fashion trend was apparently born from this over time and has been an ever-lasting tidibt of stupidity since before I was even aware how to spell trousers so I felt that I should get my feelings on the matter out in the open and don’t be surprised if I’m not pro-pant sag.

Well you’re probably already well aware that I think the entire thing is stupid. As mentioned earlier, this was not a fashion choice for prisoners but simply a result of lacking belts and any unusually saggy trousers were used to indicate a man was a prison bitch, essentially a wimpy ass toy for the bigger boys to use at their leisure as if the more womanly inmates were weird looking library books, assuming you like to jizz in their pages and call them a whore, you weird pervert you. I’m not making this up, any of it. A man who couldn’t hold his own in a fight with the rest of the inmates became a woman by rights of battle and when you’re looking at spending fifteen years in a grotty cell with a stick figure of a man, suddenly your penis just decides ‘Fuck it, might as well…. well… fuck it’. Obviously, you had to be subtle about indicating which guys were the guys and which guys were the girls so the secret rule of thumb became ‘If he’s skinny looking and his boxers are on show, stick your dick in it’. Therein lies my first problem with this secret sex code becoming a fashion craze, it’s shorthand for calling your ass a parking garage for every cruising cock in the area so why you want to walk around everywhere like that I don’t know unless you really are said garage, in which case carry on. I’d love to let loose a big burly convict in my college and tell him that he isn’t to hurt anyone but he can kidnap anyone who seems perplexed by how to wear a belt, though if this were to happen I imagine half the students would be gone, not that I’d miss them but I can hardly justify the disappearance of three hundred odd teenage boys as proving a point.

I was inspired to write this by Justin Bieber, a sentiment that shall never be repeated for as long as I live hopefully and should never be taken out of context (Wait for it now, you’ll all quote me on that, you motherfuckers). You may well have soon a photo of him in London recently but if not I’ll try to find one for you. Basically though, the prepubescent louse is wearing a hat that looks like Pac-Man receiving acupuncture on his semi-shaved head, pretentious hipster glasses, a jumper and some goofy looking jeans but the most prominent thing about this is that he is walking with a gorilla-like forward lean and said jeans are worn just above his knees. Once again, this is all real, this is actually happening in the modern world that you are actually living in, the one full of all this bullshit that has all desensitised to the idea of anything weird or bizzare. I bet you my liver that fifty years ago, had this moronic cum stain on the face of our otherwise fucked planet dressed like that in public he’d have been swiftly hurried home to get changed and put on a belt or just quietly hidden in the back of a van and driven to an asylum, which is a pleasant thought for everyone except those who live or work in an asylum. Ladies and gentleman, not knowing how to wear a belt is daft enough in itself as it is one of the most simple inventions man has ever devised and has been a means of holding up trousers and skirts since the Bronze Age but putting on a pair of trousers or jeans to then just wear them around your knees like you’ve actually shat a brick is a crime against us all, you incompetent penguin. Take a look at yourself in a mirror, no man alive looks respectable if he’s outwitted by his own clothes and you only make yourself look like an idiot if you show your inability to wear trousers to the public.

My biggest fear here is that the sagging trousers are here to stay, because sadly cretins such as Bieber are the supposed role models for the next generation and they’ll see that rodent-faced piece of beaver shit walking around wearing his trousers like his balls are actually being pulled to earth by an invisible thread and assume this is cool, that this is what people look like. The horror of this idea genuinely frightens me because all I see is a world that gets more and more idiotic as we are supposed to be advancing into the future. I personally don’t want to live in a world where you’re only considered fashionable if you put on all your clothes like you got dressed falling down the stairs in a morning.

Ah well, a useful note on this system is that the level at which a man wears his trousers is now in correlation to his intellect and self-respect, with the exception of Simon Cowell who, despite having trousers up to his elbows, is incidentally not more intelligent than every other man alive. I would like to think it will eventually become much more fashionable to show off that you can wear trousers like someone with two brain cells to rub together but I won’t get my hopes up.