Thursday, November 05, 2009

#25 Humorless Blogger

Much has been made in the last couple of weeks of the iPhone app released by PepsiCo’s AMP “energy drink,” and the feminists whose criticism of it caused it to be removed. The app instructed men on how to “score” with 24 different “types” of women by supplying them with pick-up lines tailored to each “type.” It also provided practical information, such as nearby hotels where the “scoring” could take place, and finally, it encouraged men to share a "brag list" that contained the details of the “scoring” via that preferred medium of self-important douchebags everywhere: Twitter.

AMP’s irony-free and apparently straight-faced “apology” was also delivered via Twitter: “Our app tried 2 show the humorous lengths guys go 2 pick up women. We apologize if it’s in bad taste and appreciate your feedback.”

Yes, it’s the classic “I’m sorry if you’re offended” non-apology apology, delivered with preposition-dropping and character-conserving numerical lol speak.

Who could ask for anything more? Surely not the bonerkill feminists, who had criticized the app by once again advancing the tired argument that women were being objectified.

Yes, that old chestnut.

Readers, I would never suggest anything so esoteric and also impossible to prove, statistically. Besides, it’s not as if we’re still living in the ‘80s, when women had to sleep with dogs to gain access to cheap beer. This is the 21st century - an enlightened, post-feminist era when you don’t have to be a GOP broodmare to come terrifyingly close to being terrifying close to the employment of the 25th amendment, but it sure helps.

My argument against AMP, I mean, besides that I find the term “energy drink” to be a hilariously obvious attempt by marketing men to sell a cultural zeitgeist in which a man drinking a “soft drink” would be roughly equivalent to him cutting off his dick and lobbing it into the crowd at Lilith Fair – besides that, my argument against AMP is simply that I find 24 “types” of women to be a fairly confining number.

For example, I find no entry in their list of “types” of women that would advise men on how to score with chicks like that 15-year-old girl in Richmond, California who was gang-raped by ten males after a homecoming dance for two and half hours while as many as 20 other men and boys looked on and recorded photos and video. I mean, sure, she’s proven she’s not difficult to “score” with, but still, you’d expect a conscientious corporation like Pepsi to at least provide guidance on the best ways to inebriate and overcome your average underage girl. Maybe a companion app that figures pounds of resistance times blood alcohol level divided by the number of bros in your posse?

Come on, Pepsi, get on it, before Budweiser beats you to the punch!

Also disappointingly absent from their list of “types” of women is your basic women with power-type deal. Your Nancy Pelosis, your Hilary Clintons, your Sonia Sotomayors. I mean, sure the app offers “married,” and “businesswoman,” and “political girl,” and even “women’s studies major,” but none of those “types” really adequately covers a group with such aggressive unwillingness to concede to the broham desire for conquest that is so fundamental to his nature, not to mention Madison Avenue’s bottom line. So exactly how does one go about tapping a choice piece of wise Latina? Thanks to Pepsi, a bro will never know. Seriously, they could at least offer a few strategies for getting around the security detail, because in spite of their gender makeup the Secret Service has in the past shown a real reluctance to play wingman.

Sadly, I find myself also absent from AMP’s helpful guide to the 24 flavors of female. My age and sexual appetite might suggest I fall under “cougar,” I suppose, but then again, I think I am disqualified from that group by my aversion to stupid young men. So, in the interest of post-feminist helpfulness, I now offer to iPhone app programmers the outline of a guide to “scoring” with me.

1. Get a real drink
2. Take off that stupid hat
3. Put down your fucking iPhone

See? I’m easy.