Did you know most porn is produced for and consumed by men? Weird. This whole time I thought I was romping, fist-first, through a land of egalitarian wonder. Even lesbian porn, which I’ve never even thought to click on until now because I assumed it was for lesbians, it turns out, is actually meant for men. So say the IRL lesbians in this video from  Davey Wavey (via Paper).

The video, while, OK, not exactly surprising in its sociological outlook, is a pretty funny series of reactions of lesbians watching male porn directors’ ideas of what “lesbians” are like in order to cater to male porn viewers’ fantasies about what “lesbians” are like. Most shocking revelation? Most of them don’t perform fellatio on a high heel shoe. Kind of a let down to be honest.

Amanda Bynes was arrested tonight in New York City. Her crime? Loving too much. Also smoking pot in her apartment building, which is a form of loving too much. TMZ has the details, which I’m just going to c/p below, because it doesn’t matter. I was going to be somebody once too, much like Amanda Bynes.

 According to law enforcement sources … police found the weed when they responded to a call for a disorderly person at Bynes’ apartment building.

A source close to Amanda tells us police were called because the troubled actress was behaving erratically … doing things like talking to herself.

We’re told Amanda went ballistic when officers arrived — kicking and screaming during the arrest, and yelling … “Don’t you know who I am?”

Our law enforcement sources say she’s been booked for criminal possession of the pot, as well as reckless endangerment and felony tampering with evidence.

The endangerment and tampering occurred when Bynes allegedly threw a bong out of her apartment window.

Does anyone know if using that many unnecessary line breaks is illegal, because I’m thinking of making a citizen’s arrest right now for that layout.

For real though, none of that is funny or even a joke. The real joke is that we are all going to watch this human being die on the internet, because that’s what we do now. LOL.

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Famed comedian Jerry Lewis, an 87-year-old man who will likely be dead by the time I finish typing this paragraph, reiterated his controversial opinion that women cannot be funny during an interview at the Cannes film festival today where he’s promoting some movie or other that’s probably hilarious.  The AP reports (via Gawker)

In 1998, Lewis famously said that watching women do comedy “sets me back a bit” and that he has trouble with the notion of would-be mothers as comedians.

Asked Thursday if he had changed his mind at all because of performers like Melissa McCarthy and Sarah Silverman, the 87-year-old Lewis said of women performing broad comedy: “I can’t see women doing that. It bothers me.”

“I cannot sit and watch a lady diminish her qualities to the lowest common denominator,” he said. “I just can’t do that.”

Have to disagree with him there. Women are clearly capable of being funny, and have made big strides in the world of comedy in recent years. Here are some of the best ways that women can be funny:

1) Slipping on a banana peel while giving birth to a child. LOL. Woops. Then you cut to a reaction shot of the baby, who’s all “Classic mom.”

2) Getting their period all over the place and being cranky about it. Haha. Always with the vagina blood with these broads, am I right?

3) Rubber chicken except the chicken is a woman chicken because male chickens are called roosters.

4) Crying, like, comically, when their husband won’t let them perform at his Cuban night club. Aww, come on, just let me do one number, she says, and he’s like, “No.”

5) Tina Fey getting her period and Sarah Silverman is there and then a real comedian like, say, Louis C.K., is in the background saying something man-funny, which is the best kind of funny.

6) Vacuum-related pratfall.

7) Cooking dinner for her husband, and she’s chopping onions, except it’s opposite day and the onions make everyone laugh instead of cry, then we’re all laughing but still, all, haha, this is funny, sure. But seriously what time is dinner going to be ready? Because we’ve got plans with the boys to listen to a Marc Maron podcast later.

8) Poop jokes.

9) Blow job time but she’s doing an impression of how another famous woman would give a blow job.

10) Tickles your feet with her boobs.

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I know digging throughout your old high school box of memories is a drag and a chore — my mother has been trying to get me to clean that stuff out of her house for like a decade now — but, and this is just me talking here, let’s say I had gone to the prom with Barack Effing Obama, I might have shared these things a few years ago. Maybe, like, January 20, 2009 to be exact? All the same, here they are now published in Time magazine, unearthed after all these years by an old classmate named Kelli Allman (née McCormack).  Yeah, but where’s the full, uncropped photo? Donald Trump is wondering right now.

As Time writes:

Barry spent his days at the Punahou School in Hawaii studying, shooting hoops and goofing off with his friends. Greg Orme, a fellow varsity basketball player, was Obama’s constant companion. “They were like brothers,” says Allman. On prom night, the pair double-dated. Obama and his date Megan Hughes, a student at the Hawaii School for Girls at La Pietra, joined Orme at Allman’s house, where the two couples sipped champagne before going to the dance and then an after-party. “It was a really fun, happy time. We were all cracking up, and everyone was smiling,” says Allman. “It was pretty typical from there out as far as what happens at prom: the dinner and the dancing and the photos.”

If I wanted to watch a video about a porn addict on the internet I would’ve just turned on my web cam and stared into my own blackened soul for twenty minutes. That sounds kind of hot, now that you mention it, thanks for the idea. But nonetheless, let’s all go watch this new trailer for Don Jon, a film written, directed by, and starring Joseph Gordon Levitt, which picks up on that same theme. It tells the story of a New Jersey man with a New Jersey accent, who meets a New Jersey girl with a New Jersey accent, played by Scarlett Johansson, probably in New Jersey, and then she gets mad that he watches porn. Here’s how the story would’ve gone had I directed it: Girl finds boy watching porn, gets mad. He says: “That’s weird, alright, bye.” Then she leaves. It would probably be hard to get financing for that sort of thing, although if any producers are reading this you can definitely email me to talk. Instead, JGL appears to have concocted an entire plot, with various ups and downs experienced by a cast of characters, including Tony Danza and Julianne Moore, all of whom, one can only assume, spend much of the film watching porn. Hard to confirm that based on the details here, but let’s go with that. The synopsis explains a bit more:

Jon Martello (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is a strong, handsome, good old-fashioned guy. His buddies call him Don Jon due to his ability to “pull” a different woman every weekend, but even the finest fling doesn’t compare to the bliss he finds alone in front of the computer watching pornography. Barbara Sugarman (Scarlett Johansson) is a bright, beautiful, good old-fashioned girl. Raised on romantic Hollywood movies, she’s determined to find her Prince Charming and ride off into the sunset. Wrestling with good old-fashioned expectations of the opposite sex, Jon and Barbara struggle against a media culture full of false fantasies to try and find true intimacy in this unexpected comedy written and directed by Joseph Gordon-Levitt.

Also he has a funny black friend they forgot to mention. And things get wacky, so Martello plays Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch at one point on his car stereo, which is what cheesy bros like this do in 2013 in New Jersey, where it is currently 1994, culture-wise. Haha, burnt you good there, New Jersey.

Watch it here!

There are only a couple of instances when it’s not completely bizarre and pointless to cheer, or boo, at a movie theatre screen. The first, and most common, is if you’re some sort of comically primitive, but ultimately noble soul just arrived from the distant past to teach us all a lesson about how to love again, and we take you to a matinee one afternoon because it’s hot out, and you think the picture box captures people’s souls and they can hear you when you talk. Then, ok, then it’s probably understandable to do the movie yelling thing.

The second is at Cannes, because the French would boo a litter of cartoon dinosaur puppies rolling in a bed of flowers if the romping plot seemed hackneyed. Or, you know, just because.

The human embodiment of playful, animalistic cuteness, Ryan Gosling, got a taste of the latter at Cannes today when his new film Only God Forgives, reuniting him with Drive director  Nicolas Winding Refn was roundly jeered. As Vulture writes, the last time Refn was at Cannes for Drive, “he was the toast of the fest and he, too, won the Best Director laurel. You should never underestimate the willingness of Cannes jurors to go their own way, but to judge from the boos and whistles after the Only God Forgives screening today, I wouldn’t exactly lay odds on a Best Director repeat for Refn.”

HOW DARE THEY. They have “Ryan Gosling” in France too, right? This is absurd. We haven’t seen the film yet ourselves, but early reviews say it features a lot of brooding, manly, taciturn Gosling, brooding, and being manly and taciturn. What’s not to like?

Fortunately our precious baby Goose wasn’t in attendance, or else there’s no telling what sort of disheartening glances he would’ve given while stewing in a man bath of Oedipal repression and violent rage toward the Gallic blackguards with the opprobrium to besmirch his stainless record.

Refn, and co-star Kristen Scott Thomas were there, however. As The Star reported, Scott Thomas doesn’t seem to be a fan either, describing it as “’hyper-violent and quite disturbing’ and agreed with a journalist’s observation that her role as the bloody mama is far different from her usual civility and elegance.”

Super Mario Dog Is the (New) Greatest Vine Ever, announces E!. Super Mario Dog Powers Up In Awesomest Vine Ever, trumpets the Huffington Post. ’Mario Dog’ Is The Best Vine There Will Ever Be, proclaims Uproxx.  So that’s settled then. Best Vine ever. Admittedly, the list of actually watchable Vines is pretty short. There was that Ryan Gosling Refusing to Eat Cereal thing that we’re all still into, then, uh, my friend showed me one he uploaded of me eating cheese off a plate while standing in the middle of a crowded kitchen at a party once, and that was pretty good. Got to be some somewhat memorable porn clips out there I’m guessing too, right? Maybe a baby taking its first steps, say, for one other example of a potential application of Vine that you would take, then share, and someone might watch. Someone at a concert pointing their camera at the stage? I bet that happens a lot. But, yeah, sure, on top of all of those things, then yes, this thing, which combines two of the internet’s lasting obsessions, animals in clothes, and remembering the ’90s. Pack it in, Vine users, because this is as good as it gets. Nicely done.

Awe-inspiring in its pursuit of singleminded obsolescence, this Pigeons and Planes slideshow listicle 10 Obnoxious Things Hipsters Say About Music is so bad I almost respect it. It’s not easy constructing a fallacy of a premise on top of a cliché of a foundation and then actually following through with the legwork of hefting the shoddy structure up, just sentence after sentence of corrupted, soulless nothingness. This type of dedication to saying literally not one new thing that hasn’t already been said thousands of times on this very subject in thousands of other posts makes me think there has to be some other devious design at work here.

Here are the worst parts of this shameful anchor of taste, humor, and execution, in no particular order:

We listen to so much music, and think about it so much of the time that we can’t help but having strong views.

For the hipster, however, music is just another weapon in the constant war to seem cool.

Being ahead of the curve always feels good, but when it’s turned into a point of arrogance, it just gets absurd.

Ahh fuck it, just gonna repost this whole page of content. Emphasis mine.

“I like the [insert unknown producer here] remix better.”

Remixes can be compelling, interesting takes on a well-known track. Often, a producer with a totally different background or set of sonic touchstones can make a song feel brand new, or can even make it better than the original. But constantly insisting that you like the unknown producer’s remix version of a song is just another way of trying to keep your music taste isolated from the rest of the world. News flash: it’s the digital era, that’s not really going to be possible anymore. Plus it sells the beauty of the original song short to keep pretending that a remix by an unknown producer is always better—odds are, it isn’t.

Just a reminder here, kind of, before we get really going, that none of these things have ever happened to a single human being in the actual world.

If you don’t happen to know, in detail, every band member’s musical endeavours, the hipster will act as if you’re not a true fan. Even worse, they’ll often say that the little-known side project is better than the main band, even though this is very rarely the case.

Hold on, I don’t know if I can choose just one from this paragraph of words, a word paragraph you’d call it, I guess, either.

“Their single is the worst song on the album.”

There’s something about the knowledge that other people listen to the same band as them that really irks hipsters. So of course the single, usually chosen for having the widest appeal, immediately becomes the worst song on the album, almost by default. The mysterious mind of the hipster equates popularity with all the bad things in hipsterdom, but clearly the disdain that they have for singles makes no sense economically or practically. It’s usually the song that the band themselves thinks is the best, and there’s definitely nothing wrong with the entire country hearing a good song, even if they don’t make it all the way through the deep cuts.

I think we can all, in fact, agree that there is nothing wrong with the entire country hearing a good song.

In an attempt to outdo each other, and prove that they truly appreciate how groundbreaking such and such a record was, the hipsters get more and more hyperbolic about more obscure records, until someone is telling you that an acid jazz white label sold only in one record store in Wichita was the most important album of the decade. Get real, and stop trying to impress everyone with outrageous exaggeration.

Again, this has never, ever once happened.

They’re sly little devils, those hipsters.

Just because a record was released before a band got famous, it isn’t their necessarily their best work.

Word up.

In fact, in a lot of cases, as a band gains experience, hones their craft, works with better producers, and generally matures, their music (somewhat unsurprisingly) improves.

Music writers, too.

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It’s been a mixed bag of a month for people concerned about our country’s ability to recognize the basic civil rights of American citizens regardless of sexual identity. On the one hand, Rhode Island, Minnesota, and Delaware all recently legalized gay marriage. This is wonderful news. On the other hand, a New York City man, Mark Carson, was taunted with homophobic slurs by a deranged piece of shit who murdered him in the middle of the street. This was, mind you, in New York City, in a particularly gay-friendly area at that. That certainly wasn’t the only hate-crime perpetrated in the city, or elsewhere throughout the country in recent months.

The slow trudge onward to the point where we can put this ridiculousness behind us, and go about the business of, you know, outrageous decency, takes a few steps forward, even as it takes a few more back. What compels a person to snap so violently at the mere thought of two human beings expressing love for one another remains baffling. An incident today in Paris, however, gives us some hope for a possible way to steer ourselves through these somehow, amazingly, still bigoted times. Is gay marriage driving you literally insane? How about instead of murdering an innocent man, you shoot yourself to death? It will silence the voices in your head, and rid the world of one homophobe at a time. Sounds like a win win we can all get behind.

That’s what Dominique Venner, 78, a far right author in France did today, when he entered the Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, placed a letter on the altar, and committed suicide in front of some 1,500 church-goers.

“In a final essay on his website Tuesday, he railed against France’s adoption of a law legalising gay marriage and adoption, urging activists to take measures to protect ‘French and European identities,’” Agence France-Presse reported.

“In a possible reference to his suicide, Venner wrote: ‘There will certainly need to be new, spectacular, symbolic gestures to shake off the sleepiness… and re-awaken the memories of our origins.’

While the public method of his suicide is clearly disturbing, Venner has performed exactly the role that hateful homophobes like he and his far right idealogues throughout Europe and the United States are supposed to do: die off. It’s going to happen to all of them at some point soon enough, so I don’t see any harm in them helping that day come a little sooner by speeding up the process with their own hands.

Ever since the apartment $ubletting $ervice Airbnb, ba$ed in $an Fran$ico, launched in New York City, official$ have been arguing that it violate$ the city’$ law$ here, by $kirting the regulation$ that hotel$ normally have to follow.

Because they’re worried about your safety probably. That has to be it, right?

A judge has finally ruled against a resident who rented out his apartment, assessing $2,400 in fines, a significant discount from the $7,000 they were originally threatening

The New York case is centered around a 2011 law that makes it illegal for New York residents to rent out a property for less than 29 days. It was originally aimed at landlords who bought up residential properties and turned them into hotels. Airbnb has been lobbying legislators to change the law so it clearly protects hosts, like Warren, who are not trying to turn their homes into hotels. CNET

So, the bad news is, you have to think twice now before letting a complete stranger stay in your home while you’re away. On the plus side, you have to think twice now before letting a complete stranger stay in your home while you’re away.

Airbnb has addressed the case, which they were assisting in defending, for obvious reasons.

The sheer power of a tornado can be hard to fathom, until you’ve seen one in action. Monday’s tornado, which devastated Oklahoma, looks to be one of the more destructive examples in recent memory, with dozens reported killed as of this morning. This video, uploaded by a Reddit user (via Uproxx) gives us a pretty clear look at exactly how such destruction can happen. The user who shared the video, taken by his father, explained more:

He was out that way for work today and just happened to be in the right place at the right time. He was worried it was going to come back at him and was searching for a way to scoot out it’s way once he was able to gauge how insanely close it was to him. He hung in there, though. Unbelievable. (via)

Sadly, it is.

The annual Manhattan Cocktail Classic is underway, with two booze-filled days left to go. It’s a chance for bartenders and industry types from around the world to get together and share their knowledge with each other (aka get wasted for work). There’s a full lineup of panels, tastings, and lectures about the wide world of spirits going throughout the city today and tomorrow, which you can see here, including events at some of the best cocktail bars in the city, like Mayahuel, and Pouring Ribbons. Last night, in the pursuit of truth and knowledge, I subjected myself to a bar crawl through the East Village for you, and found some of the best cocktails you need to try, whether or not you’re interested in all the biz-talk.  Here are a few bars you need to check out this week, and the cocktails you’ll want to order. Apologies for the progressively worsening quality of the pictures, but, you know: cocktails happened.

The Beagle. Try:  Gin, aquavit, ginger, line cucumber

Evelyn. Try: S. George gin, green chartreuse, cardamon, agave, lime, grapefruit bitters, absinthe

The Wayland.  Try: Bourbon, Cynar, chiptole infused agave nectar, bitters, mezcal rinse.

Last night Justin Bieber, the pop game Joffrey Baratheon, accepted the first ever Milestone Award for musical ingenuity and innovation at the Billboard Music Awards, an event that happened and was televised. The award, you will be surprised to hear, was chosen by the fans, and not a panel of straggly-whiskered musical elders pontificating about Integrity and Authenticity or whatever else it is old and MAD people talk about while hotboxing their own word farts.

Not everyone was happy with the choice, of course (and not just pop game Cersei Lannister, Taylor Swift, who gives a 4/10 on the Swiftian reaction shot schadenfreude scale here). A series of boos rung out through the audience while Bieber ascended the stairs to the stage. Maybe not as much as some people are making it sound, but boos nonetheless.

Bieber, the consumate professional, took it all in stride.

“I’m 19 years old. I think I’m doing a pretty good job,” he said, with understated grace. “And basically, from my heart, I really just want to say it really should be about the music, the craft that I’m making. This is not a gimmick, I’m an artist, and I should be taken seriously.”

And you know what, for the first time ever, I think I might agree with him here. Sure, he dresses up in goofy pants-based stunt gags every day, and acts out from time to time, but what teenager doesn’t? Teenagers, you may remember from having been one yourself, are imbeciles. But some of them happen to be talented imbeciles, and that’s the engine that drives our culture, for better or worse. Not many of us know what it’s like to be millionaire imbeciles with legions of insane fans throughout the world who would push their own mothers down the stairs to get a chance to finger floss with his shoelaces. I bet it’s pretty stressful and weird. Not, you know, as stressful as being a poor loser like the rest of us, but a different kind of stress.

There’s a reason this whole Justin Bieber thing happened in the first place, and it wasn’t because of his pants, or his sunglasses, or whatever other things we can easily make fun of, it was because of his talent. It’s still there if you want to look for it.

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I’m not exactly sure if this makes him the best Tea Party Congressman ever, or the worst, but Florida’s Trey Radal has got some pretty good taste in music. From Eric B to Daft Punk and Public Enemy, the conservative lawmaker, and believer in Prosperity, Liberty, and Integrity, seems like the kind of chill bro you could kick back and burn with, as long as the discussion didn’t stray too far from music. His affinity for hip hop has been making the rounds lately, but Esquire obtained some of his original productions today, and, well, it could be a lot worse. He explains the inspiration behind his beats, like his remix of Public Enemy, which you can hear, along with a few others, here.

“I philosophically differ on a whole lot from Chuck D — and that would be an understatement — but there’s no question, I believe in absorbing as much culture as possible in life. “Bring the Noise” is one of the songs that just hopped out in the ’80s, and it just blew me away as a kid. It’s way faster than a typical 85 BPM, and it’s about the area where you can begin to evolve into a sound that is a much more up-tempo house sound, so I was able to start working in the beats, the synths, and samples into it. [The "I ain't waiting for shit" line at the end of the looped "They gonna have to wait" bridge] is just a sample from some TV show.”

All that said, keep in mind that just because someone has pretty good taste music does not mean they’re also not a deranged libertarian whacko. Not saying that necessarily applies to Radel, just pointing out the two aren’t mutually exclusive.

Look, we’ve all been there, washing blood off of our hands in a creepy bathroom, only to be chased through the forest by an unseen menace. Classic coming of age story. It’s the predicament at the heart of this new video “Go Ask Your Mother” from the Oakland-based band Legs’ LP Pass the Ringo on Loglady Records. The band is led by Jeffrey Harland and New Zealand native Matt Bullimore, who, as you do, met while trading Weezer bootlegs in a Safeway parking lot. The creepy vibe of the clip is in stark contrast to the sunny, fuzz-wave pop of the track, which skips along on rush of organ and crunchy guitar exuberance.

We asked Harland to explain the concept behind the video

“The video stars Landon Bates, he’s a friend and plays in a rad local band called Disappearing People,” he explained. He also makes a really believable murderer, so, someone look into that.

“The concept was that Landon would play a character who is both the victim and the aggressor of some incident off screen, or perhaps just in his mind. Something like a psychological thriller where the killer turns out to be the last person you’d expect. Landon’s last name is Bates by the way.”

“The first line I wrote for that song was the last part ‘go ask your mother if she loves you now’, and it seemed like such a weird, mean, passive-agressive line to tell someone. Like, if you really hated someone, that would be a cruel thing to say.”

The thing about mothers though, is they tend to forgive you for anything you do, right? Almost anything.

“My lyrics are generally autobiographical but also stream of consciousness in that I’ll write everything down and keep what works for a particular song. So, if anything, the songs about taunting myself, dissing my shortcomings, and egging me on to ask a pretty scary question. In that way, the video works to conjure up the bedroom loneliness I felt of writing a song about whether or not my mom would still love me after I had done something awful.”

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Business Insider has a list up today called 16 Wildly Successful People Who Majored In English, and it goes a little something like this: “English majors get a bad rap in today’s college debate, and it seems they always have. It’s argued that their education doesn’t provide the necessary skills required in today’s economy.” Like, for example, math. “We’ve included 17 people who prove that success is determined by your drive, not background,” they say, which I guess if you round it down it’s close enough to 16. Maybe it’s a metaphor? That’s an English major thing.

So who are these wildly successful former book-reading, layabouts? Sting, the musician, who did manage to rhyme cough with Nabokov once, so that counts. Also, it says here he was an an actual teacher before his music career, which means the storyline of that song was probably biographical. Gross.

Who else? Mitt Romney! Bahaha, had no idea about this one. Apparently he got his undergrad in English at Brigham Young before going on to become a anthropomorphized walking dollar bill with a penis for a head. How did he get so successful? English! Also his father handed it all to him. But, you know, English majoring had to play a part in that somehow.

Then there’s a couple of CEOs, bla bla bla, followed by Conan O’Brien, Bob Woodward, and Barbara Walters, because, weird, a comedy writer and a couple of journalists were English majors? Did not see that one coming. Next up is Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas, who, much like your humble blogger here, was an English major at the College of Holy Cross. Sure, so I may just be a blogger, and not a Supreme Court Justice, but at least I didn’t turn into literally the least engaged, scandal-plagued, worst of the Supreme Court Justices, so there is that.

See the rest of the 16-17 successful former English majors here.  Then drop out of your program and start studying something you can actually make a living with, like fashion, or rock music, or hang gliding, because these are the outliers. Another thing these successful people all have in commom: Yale, Princeton, Harvard, Dartmouth, Amherst… Maybe try going to one of those schools if you can. Free advice right there.

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Katy Goodman, of the Vivian Girls and La Sera, did an internet, and we saw it, and under the terms of our content-creator contract and blog crush, we are legally compelled to share it with you here. Here it is. Good job everyone. Her friend did it too. That friend is Greta Morgan of the Hush Sound. Here’s what they wrote about it on their Bandy Camps (via COS):

While hiking past the Griffith Observatory in Los Angeles, friends Katy Goodman and Greta Morgan were struck with the idea to record a song together: A song about physics and love, science and romance, space and time. Have you ever felt the lovesick pain of falling for someone from a different dimension? We have too.

The next morning, the girls recorded “Space Time” in Greta’s tiny rehearsal space in Glassell Park. While “Space Time” may not be a hit in this dimension yet, the song is topping charts in many others. The girls have plans to tour the Andromeda Galaxy this summer, appear in Bode’s Galaxy this Fall, and make an appearance at the Omega-Palooza Festival to break up the 2.9 million light-year long trip home.

Until then, they will continue enjoying life in this space-time, where Katy is writing the next La Sera album and Greta is about to embark on a tour with The Hush Sound.

Wonder sometimes what that block of text says.

Fellas. Are you with me fellas? It can be hard to tell if a hot babe is DTF sometimes, especially if she’s got her nose buried in a book. Professional pushy-crushers know how to figure out from across the Starbucks or the subway whether or not this pretty little thing wants it just by glancing at the title of the book she’s reading, as this new, definitely real scientific study from MissTravel.com—a dating site for young attractive ladies just looking for that special, older, rich man to fly them around the world—points out (via Jezebel).

The study, which, again, is an actual thing where they talked to 47,320 members of the site, which they certainly have, asked them questions about their reading preferences, travelling, and relationships (aka fucking, and specifically their willingness to do it with you, the successful guy, who, ok, maybe isn’t in his twenties anymore, but you’ve seen a bit of the world, and you could teach a thing or two to the right girl who’s willing to listen).

“We found it interesting that most women only read when they are traveling,” says Brandon Wade, Founder & CEO of MissTravel.com in a press release, a person who is lying and/or has never met an actual woman. “We wanted to take that information and see if we could find meaning behind the books they choose, and use it help guide the single man, in his search for romance abroad.”

Romance a broad, am I right?

Here are some of their findings:

If she’s reading The Great Gatsby or Silver Linings Playbook, she’s probably hooked up with a stranger before, and history often repeats itself. Chance she’s DTF: Odds are 3 to 1.

If she’s reading Divergent or Game of Thrones, she is probably willing and able, but is looking for more than just a one time thing. Chance she’s DTF: Odds are 2 to 1 with strings attached.

If she’s reading Fifty Shades or Crossfire, she’s looking to be rescued from a loveless, passionless love life. Chance she’s DTF: Odds are 2 to 1.

If she’s reading BossyPants or Is Everyone Hanging Out With Out Me?, it could go either way. Chance she’s DTF: Odds are 4 to 1.

If she’s reading Gone Girl or 12th of Never, she is probably more interested in the outcome of her book than hooking up with you. Chance she’s DTF: Odds are 7 to 1.

That doesn’t seem very helpful at all, fellas. That’s why we’ve come up with a few handy tips of our own for you, the penis-haver, who wants a nubile young babe with maybe some big titties or small titties, whichever is your preference, titties-wise, to read between your lines, if you know what we mean. (Blow jobs).

1) A lot of women use e-readers now rather than old fashioned books like you used to not read when you were younger. In order to figure out what book they’re actually reading when you approach, steal their Kindle or iPad and hold it over your head for a minute, like, haha, just kidding, I’m not stealing it, don’t be frightened. Then once they realize it was all a hoax, they’ll be so relieved that they’ll probably let you keep the tablet while they dash off. This is because all of their info is on the device and they want you to track them down later. Ladies love to be chased.

2) Is she reading a woman author? Probably, if you’re in New York City, haha. Instant pass. She thinks she’s better than you.

3) Is she reading a book based on a movie that’s currently in theaters? This person is dumb, and probably easy pickings. Invite her back to your place to watch a movie instantly. This always works.

4) Is she reading classic literature? She’s probably longing for a bygone, simpler time. One when men were men, and women were women. Karate kick the book out of her hand and carry her out of the subway. Look, she was the one sending the signals here, not you.

5) Is she reading a sexy romance novel? This woman is a virgin. That’s hot. DTF virgins.

6) Is she reading something nerdy? This girl is used to attention from fat Redditors online. She’s probably faking it too, girls don’t like swords and robots. Show her what a real man is like by talking about your powerful job and actual apartment.

–

Just kidding obviously. But, on the off chance that any actual dude is looking for advice, here’s how you actually approach a woman who is reading any type of book when you see her on the way to work, or in the park, or at a cafe: You don’t, creep. Leave her the fuck alone, she’s reading a book. Books are way more interesting than you. Unless of course the book she’s reading is titled DTF: A Novelization of the Hit Movie, Starring Your Specific Cock and it’s got a picture of your face on the cover, then, ok, in that case you’re probably good to go.

Otherwise, if, for some weird reason, you absolutely must say something, try this: “What are you reading?” At this point she will either glance up, tell you curtly, and go back to reading, ignoring you because you’ve interrupted her, or smile at you, answer, and make eye contact as if to suggest, as normal humans do, that she might be open to further conversation on the matter. This does not mean she is DTF, this means you have now got a minute or two not to be a shithead. Use it wisely.

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!!!, forerunners in both the electro-disco-punk and the SEO-band-name-bedeviling explosions of the turn of the millennium, are back with a new album, THR!!!ER, which, you will likely not be surprised to hear, is chock-full (chk-full more like) of funk grooves and throwback disco party jams, like this one “One Girl/One Boy”, which you can watch below.

The song features vocals from Sonia Moore, who will not be on tour with the band, sadly. But you know what they say: when god closes one guest vocalist tour spot in the van, he opens a guest vocalist fan contest in the venue. For real, you can apply to sing with the band on stage. Weird! They explain more:

Upload a youtube video of you singing along or send an mp3 to singwithchk@gmail.com. No big deal, just you in front of the mirror singing into the hairbrush style will do. We’ll sift through the entries and holler at you if you’ve got what it takes. You’ll of course be judged on your vocal ability, but dance moves and star quality definitely help. If anything, it’s a free ticket for you and your bff for the show. No flakes, no egos, no drug problems.

PRO CHOPS A MUST. Working van probably not necessary.

Anyway, music is lame, so let’s look at what really matters in the video, the fashion.

Pictured here is a pair of shoes. What kind of shoes? Hard to say.

 Do you have nice legs? Too bad, put those stems away, fellas. No shorts on stage. Rock 101. Doesn’t matter if it’s 120 degrees in the club, you’re suffering for your fashion once again this year.

Scarves are a popular fashion accessory for the ladies this and the last few years. I do not care for this particular trend, but keep in mind I’m a pretty horrendously unfashionable old man.

Even the scarfiest ladies agree, wearing one while riding your novelty bicycle around town is dangerous. This is both a fashion and a health tip. Best life, best you.

People associate autumn with cozy feelings and fond memories of time gone by, such as youthful school exploits. Whenever possible try to project a water-color-like foliage onto your face so people will be tricked into liking you.

With 4,072,385 fans on Facebook, and 659,475 Twitter followers, George Takei, the 75-year-old former Star Trek actor is one of the most beloved people on the internet. Even more impressive than those numbers are the rate at which his material is shared; it’s not unusual for something he posts to amass tens, even hundreds of thousands of likes. Further, the gay rights advocate has done a lot of good work spreading awareness of this important issue, particularly among the sci-fi and genre nerd demographics. He’s also pushed for years for recognition of the civil rights violations Japanese Americans suffered through during World War II. He himself was held prisoner in a camp for four years with his family. In short, he’s a great dude, sort of the lovable gay grandfather from space we all wish we had. Isn’t that nice?

The only problem is that grandfathers are corny as fuck, and instead of shunting him off to the nursing home like we do with our real life ones, only wheeling them out every couple of months for a holiday get-together where we promptly ignore them and their bad jokes, Takei’s blathering is constantly pushed around the internet into our faces by the least funny people we know. It wouldn’t be so bad if Takei was simply telling bad jokes, but his embarrassingly goofy deluge of puns, animal pictures, and image macros constitute the Borgesian aleph of shit-encrusted internet mediocrity spear-headed by the unholy trinity of all-encompassing nothingness whose throne he squats over alongside Buzzfeed and The Oatmeal.

On a day like today on Facebook, 2.5 million people are “talking about him,” which is a better gauge of engagement than raw like numbers. That’s the metric that shows how many of a personality’s given followers are sharing or commenting or liking their posts. Here’s some other raw data: every single one of those people is an amazing dork, and no, not in the good, reclaimed sense of the word, but in the offensively tasteless sense. In fact, if you’ve ever shared one of Takei’s meme turds on Facebook, it’s safe to say you’re exactly the type of person that’s dragging social media into the shitter. Good job.

Big deal, what do I care about anyone else’s fleeting moment of joy, right? Well, the problem isn’t just that one man got popular by sharing bad things. We all do that. I share absolute shit myself all the time. It’s that there’s a calculated manipulation behind the type of content that Takei shares that makes you so susceptible to further share it yourself. It’s a truth regularly acknowledged that positive content is much more likely to go viral than negative content online. Do a quick search for “how to create viral content.” There are hundreds of articles (written by people who would’ve been real estate agents a decade ago, before “social media expert” somehow became a job), encouraging people who want to “tell stories with their brand” that the key to tricking idiots into advertising for them for free is to post the equivalent of a “hang in there” kitten calendar on our collective newsfeeds. That’s the opposite of cute; it’s rather sinister. This is all without even acknowledging that none of this is actually material written or created by Takei. It’s just another stop on the conveyor belt to content oblivion. Who created most of the images and jokes he shares to his own personal brand enrichment? IDK. Doesn’t say.

The secret to Takei’s success, as well as Buzzfeed’s, and The Oatmeal’s, as ironically pointed out in this controversial Buzzfeed piece from a while back, is that people want to share things that make them feel good. Not funny things, mind you, but things that brighten their day. Things that seem familiar and recognizable. This is the antithesis of comedy. Comedians, all of your favorites, the actual funny ones, are the most miserable, shitty human beings you can imagine, capable only of mustering up the energy to hate you more than they hate themselves. This is as it should be. The world is a horrible, frightening place, and pointing this out in surprising fashion is the only way to enable many of us to summon up the courage to go through with the whole ordeal.

Does that make me a cynic and an asshole? Sure, so be it. Unsurprisingly, there’s something that most genuinely good, nice, admirable people, people much like George Takei, the nice guy from the internet, all tend to have in common: a horrible sense of humor, and a lack of self-awareness. Every time you press share on a Takei joke you’re perpetuating a lie, one that says the world is a cute little nice place to live. It’s not. It’s a hell hole. Here’s a joke to share: we’re all going to die.

Still, though: animals that think they’re people.

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