Blue State

From Savage Spear of the Unicorn

Pool party in LA. And of course now says the podcast writer to the bearded man with antler tattoos who gives a 6/10 to the Steampunk Cafe, you have these alt right incels. Involuntary celibate, they’re racists from the manosphere and they’re on these message boards. I have to say something. But what. Do I support the incels? I guess I’m against them. But I get where they’re coming from. Is that illegal. I just don’t want to be rude. Don’t want to fuck up the whole party which is six people, and there’s already an issue with my going on at length about types of Japanese prostitutes. Well (slave name) you sure do know a lot about prostitutes, titter titter.

Someone recovers it when I mention traveling for work. They can shoehorn in and what is is that you do exactly and we’re back in safe work job money. Except I can’t let it go there. This is the one party I’ll be at in 2018 with girls. Can’t be Johnny Dayjob here. Have to be a menacing cult sex author who gets fan letters from Gabon. Can’t talk about both lives to the same people.

I say some vague thing about the general industry I work in and bees cover me humming what do you do in that field exactly, how much are you paid, what is your rank. People can’t understand not wanting to talk about work. They’re like the Westworld robots who literally can’t see a picture. See how much normie knowledge I have, I should be able to fucking fit in. But they’re in podcasting. Graphic design. Branding. What they do is acceptable. People who like it are soyboys. People who like my stuff are incels.

They’re Nazis from the manosphere who believe they’re entitled to sex, he says. What is it they call men who have sex– Chads. I like this guy but think about Jane Goodall at the punch bowl. Someone says have you heard about these “chimps” they have now.

I’ve read about this stuff, I say. I think a lot of it’s tongue in cheek.

Oh no, it’s quite serious–

Well if these guys ever do crack, it’s gonna be bigger than ISIS. There’s a lot of them.

Yes and this communal culture of toxic masculinity has intensified their entitlement— it’s dangerous–

Yeah but who knows, I mean, Elliot Rodger was meme-able because he had this thing where he had all the pieces of a good looking guy but somehow wasn’t–

And a girl says who and the soyboy says the incel who murdered women, it was somewhere in Central Calif-

Isla Vista. Elliot was photogenic. He had the pictures with the black BMW and the mimosa glass and the sunglasses, you know. He had a manifesto. Whereas Alek Minassian looks like he killed people two days after his Bosley hair implants started to sprout, it’s not gonna pop–

You sure do know a lot about incels.

Yeah well, I’m writing a book about a guy with similar problems. He causes a nuclear holocaust. And I agree with him, I agree with my character, I don’t say. There is exactly zero irony in anything I’ve ever written I don’t say, and we’re among you, you can’t run, we’re in fucking Gabon….

And what is it that you do for work exactly?

A bird of prey alights on a phone pole. I wonder if I can point it out and change the subject. But it’s a juvenile. I can’t tell if it’s a Merlin or a Cooper’s Hawk. I watch birds every day but I know much more about Elliot Rodger.

Later in the pool a branding consultant I’ve had a thing for is demonstrating a Pilates move to make her thighs rub my serratus anterior. This part of my anatomy is perfectly shaped like fingers because I’m a Chad. She’s crawling on top of me in the warm water. Maximizing the surface area of her 25 year old hamstring on my flesh… my boyfriend knows I’m not monogamous, she says. But he’s right there. It’s too weird. I go home and my second string flakes and I mutter alone in bed about my twisted world.