I read the Delicious Tacos book The Pussy and I can’t tell if it’s mostly a joke or not… The Pussy is like a Woody Allen movie, where you can’t tell if it’s more pathos or more humor, and the ambiguity is part of the appeal. Don’t read it if you’re not in the mood to be depressed. Depressed, like,
Four months since you left me. I’ve been trying to replace you the whole time. One girl came close; she was 22. Her face wasn’t like yours but she had big tits. She left me too. I was hurting from you and I tried to fix it and now I’m hurting from both of you and the evidence keeps piling up that I’m unlovable. Why won’t you love me. What is wrong with me.
The hole in this guy’s soul is large. I don’t know if it’s supposed to be fiction or nonfiction or if the writer/character is too miserable to care. He says, “Sex is the story. There is nothing else on Earth. Birds, flowers, sunsets: go fuck yourself.” Great, okay, yet other times he hates sex, although no guy hates women 30 seconds before he nuts in a hot one. I guess the book is about the male obsession with f**king, something I’m well familiar with. Joke: “What’s the definition of a nymphomaniac? The rare woman who thinks about f**king as the average man.” But homos can f**k whenever they want, and most of them seem to think about things other than f**king, like musical theater, or celebrity gossip… they seem like high achievers, most of them… they figure out that when you’ve had your fill Monday morning still comes around, so you might as well have a meaningful existence apart from f**king.
Is the pussy of the title the narrator? I dunno. I’ve read more boring books… I’ve spent more time on worse books, so I’ll probably give another one a go, like a girl I’m ambivalent about, maybe because one eye is bigger than the other, or she won’t go to the gym with me, or she gets angry when a post a tasteful pic of us f**king to a Snapchat story, but she’ll also let me rawdog her, and she also likes to hit sex clubs with me. By the end I was skipping sections… I’d seen the shtick… it’s a fine one, yeah, and it’s good he’s willing to use words like “mulatto.” Makes you know he’s not part of the political correctness police. Anonymous people admit the shit the named won’t. Usually. But listening to whining… I don’t have high tolerance for it. Personal opinion. Guys who were farmers living in the nineteenth century have things to whine about… guys in hunter gatherer tribes who spend their whole lives trying to stick the pointy ends of sticks into other guys, lest they receive the pointy end… have something to whine about. Us today… it’s harder to take seriously, despite the problems… listen to kids and they whine all the time. “No whining” is a top parenting rule. Adults learn not to whine because we learn that no one gives a f**k about our whining. People give a f**k about our solutions.
Alcohol is a stupid mind-altering substance compared to MDMA or psychedelics like LSD. That we think alcohol is great is an accident of European and Middle Eastern history. A depressed person like the person in the book (Delicious Tacos himself?) should connect with people through love drugs instead of depressives like alcohol. Our society is dumb. I ate too much Indian food tonight, although no animals had to suffer for my sustenance.
Being obsessed with sex and sex alone doesn’t do much for your identity (you will not learn how to f**k chicks from this book, unlike many other books I have discussed). If the rest of your life sucks except for jerking off, you’re doing it wrong. We feel existential loneliness and then we die. So what? Then what? What do we do now? Wallow in it, I guess. Or go make something. “Here’s the thing with me. I want to find a nice girl. But I also want to get you hammered in my filthy silverfish infested jack shack and rawdog you in the second hour of our first date.” Yeah, I have the same problem, like 50% or more of males. It’s called being alive.
While this guy is going on about his cock, other people are going out every day to produce the vast cornucopia of goods and services available. Thousands of people are working on coronavirus vaccines and treatments. Thousands, maybe millions, are making sure the Internet functions. It’s possible we’ll have a man on Mars within five years. UPS drivers make sure packages get delivered. Delicious Tacos, however, will be worried about his itches and commute. He likes a girl who has “her shit together but not in a drink the Kool Aid careerist way that made you sick to hear about.” Doesn’t make me sick to hear about, if her career is worth a damn (marketing, HR, and public relations don’t count, and neither do most girls in “art” or “media”). There is a difference between making a difference being a careerist, definitely.
Men would text him their woman problems. He told them go fuck another girl. They thought he was a genius.
The solution is always the same. Go to the gym. Pullups. Squat. Deadlift. F**k new girls. Realizing the simple things would’ve saved me much heartache. Ballache too. When I was young I thought it would be romantic to off myself over some random b***h, a legit way to fix the pain of romance, when in reality you can’t feel the pain of some girl when you’re tight and clenched as you’re about to deadlift.
The Pussy is a little like listening to someone else’s drug stories… he goes back and forth between f**king chicks and feeling like they’re worthless and so is sex, to not f**king them, and feeling like they’re worthless cause they won’t f**k him… it’s like, dude, pick one. Some things are true, “I don’t have a dating friendly lifestyle, is what I’m saying. No one who works does.” So what? Everyone’s got problems. People who make a lot of money solve those problems. That’s it. That’s the big secret of working. Every job is solving someone else’s problem. If you can solve a big problem you get big rewards.
I guess The Pussy‘s a big joke… I think one book by DT is enough for me… it has a propulsive vitality at times. This guy should buy a bike and commute on it and work on it… riding is very flow… commuting does suck… a bike ride is better than social media. Some people are never happy and this guy appears to be one of them. I don’t know, I have somewhat limited patience for the howls of the miserable. I can tell a story about my life being miserable… I can tell one about it being great… guess which is better… there is no story in this book… it’s a collection of random moments… enjoy the vital moments I guess.