Men’s Struggles with Online Dating Masks a Deeper Problem

Photo by Lukas Rychvalsky from Pexels: https://www.pexels.com/photo/person-standing-near-lake-670720/

Online dating is weird, (mostly) pointless, and quasi dystopian.

All those supposed “success stories” those websites like to post? Probably fake. Or extreme outliers. Like blue lobsters. Marketing gimmicks to keep you subscribed.

The only real winners in the online dating world are the conglomerate websites. The proverbial picks and shovels sellers in this modern romance gold rush. They’re literally making billions off your yearning hearts. Cock teasing men is big business.

We already know that online dating is a venue that mostly benefits hot guys. For the uber attractive (top 5% of guys?), online dating is a fun playground. To which I say, good for them. Everyone leverages their advantages where they can.

But if you’re like most men, online dating is just a vast time suck. An exercise in futility. You shoot dozens of messages into the cyber void. Then don’t hear back. Even after spending whole minutes on messages, crafting them with attention and care. You’re not going to be like those other guys who just write things like “‘sup?” or “DTF?” You’re going to put actual thought into what you say.

Of course, the reality is most women receive dozens of messages a day. Or even hundreds, if they’re hot. Shakespeare himself couldn’t craft a sonnet steamy enough to overcome that kind of inbox inundation.

So you get depressed. You give up. Only to return, like a relapsed crack addict, back to the seductive siren call of the online dating world, weeks or months later. You think this time it’ll work out. This time your magical pixie sex-loving soulmate will appear. The cycle of failure begins again. And another dating service gets a billion dollar IPO on Wall Street.

Here’s the deal. If you’re relying on online dating to find a mate, that’s like relying on fast food for nourishment. Yeah, you can do it for a short time. But any longer and you’ll just end up killing yourself.

Online dating is stupid. Online dating has become a crutch for too many men. Online dating has become a poor substitute for actual, genuine communication and interaction. It’s fundamentally anti-human nature, which is why it really doesn’t work.

It’s also retarding the personal growth of many men. It’s helped to create a generation of poorly socialized incel losers.

In the quest for a mate, there are two factors that matter most. PROXIMITY and PERSONALITY.

Proximity. Meaning your physical social circle. Your friends and acquaintances. The people you see and talk to in-person throughout the week. Your neighborhood. The people you live near. Go to school with. Etc.

I used to work with a guy who grew up in a super small town in North Dakota. He married his high school sweetheart at 18. He has one kid, and another one on the way. Now, do you think he was able to get married and build a family at such a young age because he’s some charming swooner? No. Dude is below average-looking at best, beer-bellied, and has a mullet. But he was able to pull off the gig purely because he and his future wife graduated in a high school class of like 12 people. There was nothing special about him particularly. But he was familiar and known to her. He was one of the few candidates in close proximity to her. So, by default, Mr. Mullet Man won out. Put any other dude in that position, and the results would likely be the same for that other guy.

Personality. This is obvious. The better personality you have, the bigger net you’ll cast. Especially if you have a good sense of humor, or just put off a good vibe. There are few things better than finding out you click with someone over the course of a conversation.

Here’s the problem. Online dating eliminates those crucial features of proximity and personality that are so essential to finding a mate. Instead, it puts a digital gate up between you and everyone else via a computer/smartphone screen.

It’s much harder for your personality to shine through in a mere profile summary. Inflection, tone, subtext, and your overall vibe often get lost in translation.

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I had a girlfriend one time who I was initially attracted to because of her voice. She had this sweet but firm “museum curator” like tone of voice that I really liked hearing. And when she talked, the tip of her nose bounced up and down in this really cute way that I loved watching.

How in hell does a dating profile convey one’s voice or something as uniquely attractive as the way the tip of one’s nose bounces when they talk? It doesn’t. Those were things I only noticed because I knew this girl in person.

Online dating has unconsciously trained men to be lazy, and take an easy short-cut to find a potential mate. The failure of online date is not a bug; it’s a feature.

It also dehumanizes people down to a scramble of pixels. And it’s very easy to dismiss (swipe left) a mere digital specter on your screen.

I found myself realizing this some time ago as I was scrolling through a gallery of women on a dating app. I caught myself mindlessly nexting one after another. Dismissing potential mates for the most superficial and silly of reasons. Reacting to visual stimuli from my lizard brain with guttural caveman responses. “Me not like her hair style.” “Ugh, shoulders too broad.” “Too tall, me not like.”

No doubt the same has been done to me hundreds of times.

I did a thought experiment. Out of all the women I’ve messaged who never responded, how many of them might have been more receptive if I was in their proximity? What if I was like Mr. Mullet Man above, so to speak?

I suspect the answer is I would fare much better. Any time I’ve ever been in a social setting — school, workplace, church, etc. — I’ve never had issues with meeting or attracting women. I don’t have a standout personality or anything. And looks-wise, I’m average at best. But I’ve never lacked for admirers when in a good, diverse social environment, as I suspect is the case for many other men, too.

And how many women have I nexted on a dating app that might have been good partners in real life have I missed out on? How many cute nose tip bouncers have I potentially overlooked?

So why waste time with online dating apps that don’t allow the average man to play to his strengths?

As I’ve gotten older, and my social circles have shrunk, or in some cases, disappeared, so have the opportunities for finding potential mates. This is one of the struggles with adulthood post-college, and in entering middle-age.

In response, many have turned to the dead end of dating apps as a supposed solution. But for most that’s really just setting yourself up for failure, because it causes you to ignore the two primary factors of proximity and personality mentioned above.

So men who continually fail at online dating start to give up hope, and feel like failures in life in general, when that is not the case. Really, social media overall has caused people to be far too hard on themselves in judging their social status.

The problem is not online dating. That just masks a bigger issue. It’s poor social skills. It’s not having a good circle of friends. It’s the modern problem of becoming trapped behind a computer screen, and everyone’s digital avatar becoming the substitute for their actual being.

So many men have become dependent on online dating, that it’s crippled their ability to function in real life.

The reason why incels exist, and why there are so many lonely single men these days, is not because women’s standards are too high. It’s not because hot chads are out there dominating, making it impossible for the common uggo to have a fighting chance. It’s because so many men can’t communicate or socialize properly at even a basic level. It’s like they’ve forgotten how.

This is not an endorsement of the pick up artist lifestyle. Nor am I saying that online dating is a total waste. It’s a supplement at best. It can work.

This is about simply being human and interacting with other people in healthy social environments. Something that has become harder to do these days. The pandemic only made it worse.

I think if men focus on building genuine social networks first, then the opportunities for finding mates will quickly follow.

Afterall, no matter who you are, or what you look like, you possess some unique nose-tip-bouncing quality that someone finds endearing. But it’s going to be almost impossible to find that someone if you never actually meet in real life.

Three Oilfield Jobs That Pay $80k+ With Little or No Experience

A detailed breakdown of three little known but well-paying oilfield occupations.


Photo taken by author.

Since moving to North Dakota in 2012 to get in on the oil boom, I’ve spent a cumulative 7 years in the oilfield. I’ve held a number of different jobs in the industry, some of which I had no idea even existed until I moved up here. 

While the fracking boom that kicked off the explosive growth in the Bakken region back in the mid-2000s through the 2014 has settled into maturity, oil prices currently remain high. As do many job opportunities. And some fields like the Permian Basin in West Texas remain active and growing.

The unique thing about the oilfield is that there are many entry-level positions that pay extremely well, but don’t require much, or even any experience. Whereas many other industries are prone to gatekeeping, requiring a degree or specialized training, the oilfield is generally very open to newcomers.

The pay is usually well above average. Just be willing to work hard and (possibly) get dirty. You may also have to move to a new state. I had to move 1,700 miles from Philadelphia to North Dakota myself. A difficult adjustment for sure, but it’s proven financially rewarding. 

The jobs I’m going to talk about here can mainly be found in North Dakota, Colorado, West Texas, and New Mexico. Though there are many other oilfield and natural gas plays throughout the country, like the Marcellus Shale, that cuts through eastern Ohio into Pennsylvania up to New York State. And even California, which is dotted with hidden pump jacks throughout Los Angles.

If you’re looking for work, or looking to make a career change into the energy industry, these three occupations might provide you with a good place to start. Each of them potentially pay above the U.S. average and median income. The first two are jobs that I’ve done myself. 

It can be really scary and daunting to get into a new industry. But it doesn’t have to be. Hopefully, this article will be a helpful guide.

Lease Operator (aka “Pumper”)

This is an entry level position that’s part tech and part mechanic. A pumper is given a route of oil wells to oversee. Basically, your job is to make sure everything runs smoothly, safely, and that the oil gets sold.

Pumper was my second job in the oilfield. A postion I held for two and a half years. For people looking to procure long-term employment in the oil industry, but don’t have a degree in something like geology or engineering, this is a great place to start.

The training process is mostly hands-on, though there are some schools that might offer classroom instruction in pumping that can help prepare you for working live in the field. But it’s mostly something you’ll learn on the job (as are many positions in the oilfield).

As a pumper, you’ll not only manage your own route of wells, but most likely assist other pumpers in the field, coordinate and oversee roustabout projects, act as a liasion between operations in the field and management back in the office, and communicate the status of sale tanks with oil buyers. There is quite a bit of communication required in this role, and sometimes it can feel like you’re a customer service rep at a phone center.

You’ll also be a meter reader, and collect data from a large piece of equipment known as a LACT. That stands for Lease Automatic Custody Transfer. Basically, a LACT unit automatically samples and ships the oil down through the pipeline directly from the tanks. Oil companies are increasingly using LACTs as a form of automation, especially on sites that produce significant quantities of oil. 

You’ll be the first one on the scene to a site, and the one primarily responsible for detecting any mechanical or safety concerns.

Pumping can at times be taxing, requiring a lot of late days, nightly call-outs, and overtime, especially when you have a lot of active wells. Sometimes it can be messy, especially if you have an oil spill or some kind of clean-up to deal with. There’s almost always something to be done on a site.

But pumping can also be rewarding. It offers a lot of freedom and independence. You largely work on your own, in a company work truck, without any bosses hovering over your shoulder. You’ll also work outdoors in all sorts of weather. So if you dislike working in a cubicle farm like I do, pumping might be a good option.

Schedule

I worked an 8×4 and 7×2 schedule during the daytime, and I’ve found since that that is a very typical schedule for many companies. Basically, you work eight days straight, then have a four day weekend. When you come back, you work seven days straight, then have two days off. Then you restart the eight-day portion again. So you get a four-day weekend every three weeks. This makes vacation time longer, too, as you can stack your PTO days at the end of you four says off, in-between your two days off. Gaining an extra six days of vacation on top of your paid days off. Not a bad deal. 

I’ve also seen schedules like 7 days on, 7 days off, 10 days on, 4 days off, and even the normal 5 days on, 2 days off deal you typically see in your traditional 9–5 type office job. Every oil company is different. 

Pay

This is largely dependent on what area of the country you work in, and the company, as well as what level of experience you’ve achieved. But even entry-level with little to no experience in the oilfield you can see a starting salary around $50-$70k+ base, with overtime. That’s a pretty remarkable starting salary for little experience relative to many other positions.

Pay also depends on the state of the oil industry overall, and whether a particular region is growing or has reached a plateau. Right now, with oil prices high, it’s a great time to look for opportunities as a pumper, as many companies have started drilling new wells again. But remember that price swings can work against you. If oil falls, companies can start to tighten up spending and hiring, and that can eat into your overtime and other benefits.

Lease Operator/Pumper is a good starting position in the oil industry that can lead to a lot of opportunities. It isn’t as physically demanding as a roustabout or a workover rig position, positions that often have long hours and grueling physical work. During my few years as a pumper, I saw people of all ages and backgrounds in the position, including single moms, college grads, and even a retired chiropractor.

Many times people think that to work in the oilfield you have to be some tough guy roughneck or something. Rest assured, that is not the case. Many positions in the field, including pumping, are very much accessible to everyone. 

Photo taken by author.

Gauger

If working as a pumper sounds too intense and involved, then the gauger position might be perfect for you. This is a very niche position that few people know about. 

A gauger generally works for a pipeline company, and is mainly responsible for shipping the oil sale tanks on a customer lease site down the pipeline. 

You’ll also coordinate alongside the pumper, who will usually be the one notifying you about tanks ready for shipping.

But before shipping any oil, there’s a little chemistry involved. First, an oil tank has to be measured, sampled, and secured. The gauging aspect refers to the important steps of collecting the necessary data about the oil.

A gauger uses a gauge tape (like a long tape measure) to measure the height of the oil in the tank. Afterwards, they collect a few ounces worth of samples from the top and bottom of the tank. During this, they’ll also be collecting the gravity (basically the density of the oil) and temperature. This data is crucial to determining the oil’s quality, as well as determining the proper barrel count. At about $90+ a barrel currently, being off even a little bit can cost quite a bit of money.

A typical oil tank can hold around 400–500 barrels of oil, but generally a pumper will close off a tank when it’s no more than 2/3rds full. So let’s say you have 300 barrels of oil. At the current price, that comes out to about $27,000.

As a gauger, you are basically creating the company’s bottom line. So it’s vital to collect accurate information.

To test the oil, a gauger will use a centrifuge and a solvent mix to shake out any base sediment or water. This is done to ensure the oil has a certain standard of quality that’s acceptable to ship. It’s a simple process, but an important one.

Next, after determining that the oil is good to go, a gauger will prepare the tank for sale by opening up the proper valves, and activating the pumps. Generally, there will be a pump, or set of pumps, installed on site alongside the tanks. These pumps help ship the oil miles underground through a network of pipes, until it reaches a gathering station. It becomes a bit complicated from there, but basically the pipeline company is helping the oil company ship their oil into the market.

Like the pumper, gaugers also check on LACT units, record data, and perform any maintenance required. 

Shipping through an oil pipeline is actually the most efficient and safest way to transport oil. It beats rail and truck quite handidly. There are thousands of miles of oil and natural gas pipeline all across the the country, moving millions of barrels around every year. As a gauger, you get to be part of the nations energy “cardiovascular system,” so to speak. A task that’s especially vital these days with higher oil prices and tighter oil availability.

Schedule

A starting gauger will, just like a pumper, generally work on a rotating shift. When I was a gauger, I had a fantastic schedule. Eight days on, then six days off. However, I’ve also heard of some places that offer two weeks on and two weeks off. That can be a great set-up for someone who has family living elsewhere, giving you plenty of time on your days off to enjoy time at home. 

Pay

Also like the pumper position, this will vary depending on where you work. In the Bakken region, I saw gauger positions start off at around $60k+ a year, and depending on the amount of OT, that could get you to the $80k mark or even higher. As I mentioned above, the gauger position is pretty niche. I like to think of it as a diamond in the rough. It generally comes with a great schedule, and the work load is pretty low-key. During my time as a gauger, I also saw all types of people come and go. Though I noticed that the position tended to skew middle-aged or older. It’s a great job for someone who doesn’t want a lot of physical demands, while still making good money.  

Flowback Operator

This last job is not one I’ve done myself, but as a former pumper and gauger, I’ve interacted with plenty of people who do it. When a recently fracked well opens, it can produce massive and unpredictable amounts of oil, gas, and salt water.

A flowback operator watches a new well site, makes sure the oil stays flowing into the tanks, closes tanks off when they are ready for sale, and ensures the safe and efficient flow of the well.

A fracked well typically does its biggest production numbers right after it opens, but falls off quickly after a few weeks or months. This early busy period oftentimes requires 24/7 oversight by a flowback crew.

As a flowback operator, you may possibly work with someone else if it’s a big enough well. But most likely you’ll be working alone. You’ll spend your time inspecting equipment throughout the site to make sure everything is functioning properly, and of course checking on oil tank levels.

The most important aspect of the job is to prevent oil spills. 

If the oil you’re overseeing is pipelined in, you’ll be coordinating with gaugers and other personnel on the pipeline side to ensure that oil is shipped as it’s ready. If there’s a LACT unit on site, you’ll check to make sure it stays running as needed. If it’s not a pipelined well, you’ll be working with CDL-A oil haulers, who will be coming in and out constantly to pull oil.

Schedule

A new well is a busy and sometimes dangerous place. Flowback watch requires attention to detail and focus. Entry level base pay can range, but you make up for it with tons of overtime. Flowback operators often work on 12-hour rotating shifts. So you may work day side on one hitch, then work nights on the next. It’s not generally a laborious position. It can even be boring because you’re often just performing the same checklist activities again and again. But it can be very busy and the excess hours can wear you down.

Pay

As a brand new flowback operator you may not make that much per hour, but you will often work lots of OT. That can put you at the $40k-$50k range at base possibly, but up to $80k or even higher with the extra hours. 

It’s also important to point out that the position of flowback operator comes with certain hazards. This is not the safest job. Even with safety protocols, the gases and vapors coming out of a well are unpredictable. Oil wells, especially new ones, produce all sorts of toxic gases and fluid, and as the person overseeing the production, you will potentially be first exposed to these dangers.

Also, like the gauger and pumper positions, you’ll likely be required to work in lots of adverse conditions and environments. In North Dakota for instance, the winters get brutally cold, with wind chill temps in the negatives. Texas has the high heat, of course. While places like Colorado have the snow.


Finally, this list is not exhaustive. It’s a good starting point for anyone who’s looking to get started in the oilfield, and has little experience. There are some positions that pay as well or even higher. Jobs such as CDL driver or wireline operator. I didn’t include those, however, as they require either specialized training or certification, or usually some measure of experience before you make the bigger $80k plus money. 

A CDL-A frac sand hauler can make $100k+ as a company driver. An owner operator can make substantially more. As can a qualified wireline operator. But that job sometimes requires a CDL, as well as some additional training and experience. 

There are other gigs that can pay well with little or no experience, such as workover or drilling rig crew, or roustabout, as mentioned previously. Depending on the territory and demand, pay can be pretty decent for those positions. They are way more physically laborious than the three positions I talked about above. But if that’s something you’re okay with, then you could also explore those.

The oilfield is pretty accessible at the moment. So if you’re considering a change in careers, now would be a good time to make the jump. Hopefully, this article has helped. 

TikTok is Trying to Kill You

Photo by Mitja Juraja from Pexels: https://www.pexels.com/photo/close-up-photo-of-skull-970517/

TikTok is like some kind of fictional mind virus from a dystopian sci-fi novel. 

Except the video app with the psychedelic logo is quite real, and it often targets people with completely insane and sometimes even deadly hashtag trends. 

Like almost every social media app, TikTok operates on an algorithm, curating videos based on a user’s interests. 

But this is an evil algorithm. 

It targets the young. It targets children. The ones who make up most of TikTok’s user base. The app is quite intuitive at collating communities around addictive hashtags, which can lead users being exposed to all sorts of crazy shit. 

Sometimes, this can be a productive thing. For example, “BookTok,” TikTok’s highly active army of book worms, is transforming the publishing industry. I wrote about it in article here.

But goodness on TikTok is purely accidental. There’s also a very dark, very deadly, and very weird side to an app that seems to have sprung straight out of Satan’s asshole. 

Here are just a handful of ways TikTok is trying to kill you:

The Blackout Challenge

Originally known as the equally ominous “Choking Game,” this viral self-strangulation trend has claimed the lives of numerous children over the last few years. 

The idea is simple as it is ghastly. Participants are encouraged to choke themselves in order to to get high, or to fall unconscious, all while on video. People have used belts, ties, ropes, and other devices to purposefully hang themselves in the hunt for internet points. And it’s costing them their lives.

Last July, 2021, an eight-year old girl named Lalani Erika Walton hanged herself with a rope from her bed after absorbing hours of TikTok videos of others attempting the challenge.

Earlier that February, a nine-year old girl named Arriani Jaileen Arroyo also fell victim to the trend. She had used the family dog’s leash to hang herself. Her father found her unresponsive.  

Then later in March, there was a 12-year old boy named Joshua Haileyesus who was rushed to the hospital after being disovered unconscious by his twin brother. He spent 19 days on life support before finally passing away. 

As a child growing up in the ’90s, I remember learning about how you can purposefully choking yourself to get high. But back then you generally only found out about that stuff word of mouth, and usually from some weird kid in a torn up Metallica t-shirt who sat in the back of the class. 

But with TikTok , a bizarre and risky trend like that can spread faster than Covid on a NY subway. For many kids, who are highly impressionable, it seems thrilling and fun. They do it without knowing the enormous risks. And it’s killing them or injuring them for life.

The Fire Challenge

Scratch what I wrote above about TikTok being a dystopian mind virus. It’s more like a digital demon that possesses people.

This trend started from a user who sprayed hairspray onto a mirror, and then lit it on fire to create different designs. Imitators quickly spawned, including Nick Howell, another 12-year old, who wound up burning 35% of his body in March of this year, when he accidentally ignited a bottle of rubing alcohol.

In June of last year, a 13-year-old Oregon girl wound up in the hospital with severe burns on her body due to exploding a bottle of isopropyl alcohol in an effort to mimic the mirror trick. 

But if manipulating people into lighting themselves on fire isn’t ghastly enough, how about — 

The Eye Challenge

Which got people to put bleach in their eyes, which supposedly changes eye color. 

This one, like many of these TikTok fads, started off as a joke from some kid named Greg Lammers trying to show off his cool video editing skills. In his video, Lammers instructed viewers that if you fill a plastic bag with jelly, hand sanitizer, bleach, or shaving cream, and place the bag against an eye, it can change their eye color. After performing the deed, Lammers then cut to a new shot, showing off his supposedly changed eye color. Except he had actually used a contact lens (duh). 

While Lammers never expected his video to go viral, it did. To the tune of 300,000 likes, 25,000 chares, and 3,000+ comments. Imitators then started posting their own attempts at the technique, which only resulted in them burning their eyes. Big surprise. 

The Milk Crate Challenge

This trend blew up about a year ago. People made videos of themselves trying to scale pyramids of milk crates they had cobled together, which often resulted in them falling down and getting injured. Hospitals saw an influx of patients with cracked ribs and other broken bones over the course of the hashtag scourge.  

Like in all the previous deadly and dangerous trends, TikTok made sure to issue a statement about how the app supposedly:

Prohibits content that promotes or glorifies dangerous acts, and we remove videos and redirect searches to our Community Guidelines to discourage such content.

Right. “Prohibits.” Totally. 

The problem is that by the time a trend has become big enough to cause real damage, it’s too late. TikTok was the most popular app in 2021, having been downloaded 3 billion times, and having garnered a mind-blowing 1 billion users. 

One freaking billion! That’s one seventh the world population. 

About a quarter of TikTok users are children or teens ages 10–19, and the kiddos are spending roughly 75 minutes per day on the video-sharing app. Another statistic of note is that the majority of TikTok’s successful ads communicate their message or product immediately. As in like 3 seconds. 

In other words, TikTok is custom built for short attention spans. And because of its ravenously-obsessed youthful users base, a trend, however absurd or dangerous, can spread at the speed of human stupidity (which is WAY faster than light, contrary to Einstein’s Theory of Relativity). Millions of clips are posted daily, and users are often sucked into a rabbit hole of algorithmically curated videos designed to keep them hypnotized. 

There’s no logistical way TikTok could realistically govern or filter out a questionable trend because of the speed at which they grow through the app’s multiverse-sized ecosytem.

So, what is the solution, if any? 

I’m reminded of the thematic summation in the classic Mathew Broderick-starring 1983 film War Games about the Cold War threat of MAD (Mutually Assured Destruction.”

“The only winning move is not to play.”

The only way to beat TikTok is to delete the app, and make sure gullible kids can’t see it in the first place. 

Yeah, good luck with that. TikTok and all its poison, is here to stay.

Hot Blonde Bimbo Teachers Can’t Stop Fucking Kids

Source: Screenshot from Marka Bodine’s YouTube Channel

It’s become a real epidemic in this country. Worse than Covid. Worse than Monkeypox.

In U.S., we are currently suffering an outbreak of super cute, model-quality, bimbo, usully blonde, usually married teachers who can’t stop fucking their male students.

What the hell’s going on?

Now look, as a red-blooded American male, I could sit here and make the obvious joke, all while chortling like Beavis and Butt-head, “Herr-durr, why couldn’t I have had a teacher like that? These boys today are so lucky, heh-heh-heh.”

But this is no laughing matter. This is serious. Chris Hansen, where are you?

The latest episode of As the Hot Femme Pedo Turns completely blew my mind. Check out this summary from Breitbart about 32-year old Marka Bodine:

A former Texas sixth grade teacher will spend two months in prison for having a three-year relationship with one of her students, who was between the ages of 12 and 15 at the time. She will be given until June 2023 to surrender for her brief prison sentence due to the recent birth of her child.

The screenshot source above is no typo. Ms. Bodine has a YouTube channel. There are only a few videos, but it seems she did some for online learning during Covid lockdown. In the video I took the screenshot from, “Week of 3–30–20,” she instructs her students to come up with a “hashtag summary that describes your week.”

Hmm, wonder what sort of hashtag would best describe Ms. Bodine’s last few days. How about #pedoteachergetsoffeasybecauseshesfemale? Too long?

The case against Ms. Bodine started last year. According to affadavits, she went to the principal at her school, Tomball ISD north of Houston, to complain about a 16-year old student of hers who was harassing her and threatening to harm himself.

During the investigation, the student admitted that he’d had a sexual relationship with the teacher that had started when he was 12. The two initially started messaging through Fortnite, then progressed into texting. The relationship turned sexual sometime after the child’s 13th birthday, and continued for several years afterward. She sent 40 nude images to the child, and even moved into the same apartment complex as him. The two had dalliances in her classroom and her car.

Source: Spurstalk

Prosecutors were seeking a minimum of 20 years in prison for the teacher. But in a bad M. Night Shyamalan twist, Ms. Bodine was only handed TWO MONTHS in prison and ten years probation. She doesn’t even have to go to prison right away, due to the recent birth of her child.

Oh yeah, she was preggo, but NOT with her victim’s child. Her huband’s. Who is now her ex-husband.

Damn, imagine getting cucked by a 13-year old. If that ever happend to me, I wouldn’t just get divorced, I’d change my name, get plastic surgery Michael Jackson-style, and move to Brazil.

Ms. Bodine has until June of 2023 to report to prison, giving her a whole year to destroy another innocent life. A ridiculously light sentence when you consider that some of the male perverts snagged on Chris Hansen’s classic To Catch a Predator, and the reboot Hansen Vs. Predator, served years in prison for visiting a decoy after sending explicit texts, without ever having had a physical relationship with an actual flesh and blood minor.

Ms. Bodine banged this kid for three years and only got two months and probation. WTF?

What’s disturbing about this case isn’t just that Ms. Bodine preyed on this child starting from the time he was 12, it’s that she evidently fucked him up so badly psychologically that he threatened to harm himself. There are few intimate details about the nature of the relationship, but it’s not hard to imagine that the kid became helplessly infatuated. Might she have even put off the relationship due to her pregnancy, resulting in the boy’s subsequent mental breakdown? Who knows.

Source: Spurstalk

Of course, this isn’t the first time a blonde bimbo teacher has shagged a minor. It’s become somewhat of a cliche at this point. The website Zimbio has a article titled, “The 50 Most Infamous Female Teacher Sex Scandals.”

Probably the most famous scandal is Mary Kay Letourneau, a Seattle elementary school teacher, who began a relationship with a 13-year old boy way back in 1996. She became pregnant from the teen and gave birth to a girl the following year, after the illicit affair had been discovered. Then she got pregnant again in 1998 with a second daughter from her underage lover. After serving a prison term, Letourneau then actually married her former victim. The couple even threw a “Hot for Teacher Night” at a Seattle bar.

Then there’s the case of Debra Lafave, a 23-year old former model turned Florida teacher who got arrested in 2004 for having sex with with a 14-year old boy. This one gobbled up a ton of media fenzy. Ms. Lafave tried to plead not guilty due to insanity, as she evidently had bipolar disorder. When that didn’t work, her defense attorney even tried to argue that his client was too pretty to go to jail. She later received house arrest, probation, and was forced to register as a sex offender. Later she would whine to Matt Lauer on a Dateline interview about how, like, it’s so hard for her to accept the fact that she’s a predator teacher.

Years later, Matt Lauer would himself get fired from NBC for “inappropriate sexual behavior in the workplace.”

Which means that Dateline interview may mark the first time where a major network TV report took place in which 100% of the people shown on your screen were psychosexuals.

Source: Dateline NBC

Who knew pervs were such camera hogs, too?

Marka Bodine is just the latest episode in an ongoing sordid trend that’s been largely marginalized and humorized from late night talk shows to Van Halen songs.

For sure, some of the teachers caught for raping minors receive just sentences. But for the most part they get far more leniency than a male predator ever would. And this is even after flagrant and prolonged relationships with minors.

Why the double standard? Why does society put female predators, especially attractive ones, on a pedastal? Why are female child rapists like Lafave given comfortable TV interviews, while male child rapists are treated like a dangerus virus under glass?

Part of it probably comes from a broad societal inability to perceive women as anything but victims when it comes to illicit sexual activity. Obviously, in nearly all sexual assault cases, women are the victims. Women simply “can’t” be the aggressors due to the biological aspect of sexual intercourse.

This makes the cases of female teachers banging minors outliers. They’re seen more as a curiosity than as a legitimate crime.

But there’s another aspect. In many of these cases, I noticed that the female teachers often maintained an ongoing “normal-esque” relationship with their underage victim, which makes it seem like both parties were fully consenting. Of course, a child cannot give consent, even if it is a horny willing male with raging hormones.

Rather than being perceived for what it is — a horrendous sex crime, these female teachers are often excused for falling victim to temptation.

Why I Don’t Drink Alcohol

Photo by Marta Dzedyshko from Pexels: https://www.pexels.com/photo/cognac-on-cut-glass-bottom-placed-on-table-6341420/

Except very rarely, as in once a year.

The Acceptable Poison 

I could probably count on one hand how many alcoholic drinks I’ve had in the past six years. Drinking is like my Halley’s Comet.

I remain steadfastly unswayed by the festive environments of Christmas, New Year’s, St. Patrick’s Day, and my birthday. 

Even watching my beloved Eagles win the Super Bowl four years ago was a dry affair. I only had one beer — the East Coast favorite Yuengling — the next day, during lunch, and only because a family member paid for it.

This is apparently “bizarre” and “abnormal” behavior, even for someone middle-aged like myself. Commercials (especially during NFL season) constantly tell me how freaking AWESOME it is to drink, and how good-looking drinkers are, and how it’s maybe even actually healthy. Every once in a while some article pops up touting the benefits of drinking a glass of wine a day. No doubt paid for by Big Grape.

Maybe drinking alcohol in moderation is healthy. It’s no doubt a good social lubricant. You see all those happy couples out there strolling down the sidewalk and holding hands? I bet half of them are only together because of alcohol. According to Jerry Seinfeld, it’s the only way ugly people can date.

Guess that means there’s no hope for me. 

::sad slide whistle::

The “Twilight Zone Realization”

It wasn’t always like this. Seven years ago, I used to drink strongly and regularly. Brandy was my drink of choice. I liked it because it’s heavy and warm. I find beer too fizzy, stimulative, and inconsequential. Beer is like the fast food of drinks. Mixed drinks like rum or vodka are too “party mode” for my liking.

But brandy. VSOP. Middle shelf quality. The honey-brown bottle with the blue label felt like a little trophy in my hand on my twice-weekly trips to the liquor store. Occasionally I’d sample the top-shelf cognac buys when I felt my liver needed something higher class. 

Brandy was perfect for me. It felt right. Classy. Aristrocratic, even.

Said Benjamin Guggenheim on the Titanic: “We are dressed in our best and prepared to go down like gentlemen. But we would like a brandy.”

One of my favorite movie quotes. Though soon it would prove a sad metaphor for my life. Guy, sitting there alone, enjoying a drink, while everything around him sinks. 

Unlike beer, which intoxicates you incrementally. Or party drinks, that bomb you into submission. Brandy’s effect is subtle, cumulative, and compounding. Almost tranquil. It sneaks up on you.

You can sip brandy and gently coast away into oblivion. 

But after a while I came to one of those “Twilight Zone realizations.” You know, where the main character finally figures out what’s really going on, and their whole world gets upended.

I realized I was using alcohol as a crutch. As an escape hatch from reality. And that rather than it enhancing my life in any way, it was actually causing me to atrophy and isolate.

In low moderation, alcohol can be a fun spice. But for the most part, it’s like a garrote slowly squeezing the life out of you.

Alcohol deadens the senses. It distracts you from improving and adapting your situation.

So, I quit. Not gradually. Immediately. 

I’m a good quitter. I had quit smoking cigarettes almost ten years before, cold turkey. Believe me, it wasn’t easy giving up my Lucky Strikes. 

At the time, I couldn’t exactly articulate why I needed to quit. I just knew I had to. I don’t think I was technically an alcoholic. I would sometimes go on “purges” for days or even weeks, before eventually returning to Inebriation Island. And once I started back up, it never stopped at just one drink. 

But I could have “quit anytime I wanted.” I mean, sort of. 

Alcohol no doubt was exerting far too much gravity in my life. But not all the reasons I quit were noble or life affirming. Some were just practical. Some were even vain. But here they are:

Seven and a Half Reasons Why I Don’t Drink (except very rarely)

1.) I’m cheap as hell.

I don’t like spending money on frivilous things. And for me, alcohol is about as frivilous as you can get. You’re blowing wads of cash on bitter-tasting flavored water that will just give you a headache. I think my brandy used to cost me $16–$18 a bottle. At twice weekly, that was almost $40. $160 a month. Not big money, sure. Some people spend that on porn subscriptions. But it’s money for which you get nothing of value back in return. At least if you throw money away on lottery tickets there’s a microscopic chance you jump a few tax brackets. But booze? It’s guaranteed waste. 

And that’s even if you’re a budget-conscious drinker, like I was, and you imbibe at home. If you go out to bars and clubs, the costs can balloon ridiculously.  

2.) I don’t like feeling like shit.

Maybe alcohol doesn’t agree with me on a genetic level. Some people mix with it, others don’t. Alcohol doesn’t make me want to party or hang out with people. It generally just makes me tired, and when drank to excess, it is guaranteed to make me feel like terrible the next day. Who wants to feel like they got run over by a steamroller when they wake up in the morning?

In addition to the physical side effects, there are the mental ones, too. Drying out during the day always made me feel anxious and volatile. Because drinking dehydrates you, the whole next day you’re playing the hydration catch-up game to get yourself back to equilibrium. And since you’re technically in chemical withdrawal, you tend to rush through things so you can get back to the bottle. It’s a cruel cycle. Even though you know it’s wrecking you, you have to keep it going in order to feel “normal.”

3.) I like to (try) get a good night’s rest.

Alcohol interrupts your brain’s ability to get deep sleep. The brain needs that serious downtime in order to “wash” itself. No joke. The brain emits cerebrospinal fluid like a car wash all over your cranial lobes while you sleep. Think of it as cleaning out the gunk between the gears of your mind. But even small amounts of alcohol can blow up that cycle, and make it impossible for your brain to scrub itself clean. What happens when you don’t change your car’s oil filters regularly? Your engine eventually locks up. It’s the same idea with your brain. When it’s never given the chance to clean itself, it malfunctions. This is why alcoholics are often so irritable and can’t think straight. They’re literally working with a busted machine inside their head.

Good sleep is hard enough to come by, for me. I’m lucky if I can get a solid 6 hours of quality shut-eye. I don’t need booze wrecking what little sleep I might be able to get. Plus, I like a well-scrubbed brain.

4.) I don’t like being dependent on chemicals or drugs for anything.

That goes for medications, also. I don’t even like taking aspirin or cold medicine unless I really need to. It’s not a macho thing. It’s a control thing. I like to remain sovereign over my mental faculties at all times. I think it’s why even when I did drink heavily, I had a knack for toeing up to the line, but rarely ever going full-blown Chernobyl. Even as a habitual drinker then, I stayed in the driver’s seat as much as possible.

5.) I just don’t have the time for it.

Looking back, I don’t know how I ever made time to drink. It’s funny. When you’ve got a good buzz on, time just melts away, and before you know it, it’s 2 AM, and you’re realizing you have to get up that morning for work. As in like four hours.

Alcohol is like a black hole. It sucks up everything in your life, and suddenly, everything revolves around the bottle. You plan your whole day by it. Work is just something you do before you can drink. Eating is just something to be gotten out of the way so you can drink. You ignore healthy, productive activities and hobbies and even people in order to reserve time for drinking. 

It’s a pure time suck. And a life suck. It’s a true vampire. Life is short enough not to spend 20% of every day (or more) half-conscious. When I think back to how much of my life I wasted avoiding reality behind a bottle, it honestly hurts.

6.) Alcohol withdrawal is a motherfucker. 

It can actually kill you. While I never got to the point where not drinking was a threat to my life, I had some uncomfortable experiences during my occasional cessation periods. A burning sensation in my chest. Heart palpitations. Sweating. Inability to sleep. Anxiety. Cold symptoms. Even hallucinations. I remember one night tossing and turning in bed, and seeing an owl, or some kind of bird, perched near the ceiling, partially hidden in shadow.

None of that shit is appealing whatsoever, obviously. 

It’s crazy the heavy toll alcohol extracts, even when you’re not drinking and making the effort to clean up. It’s like trying to get out of the mob. Better be ready to take a beating. It’s no wonder so many get sucked back in after sobering up for a short spell. 

7.) I value my health, and…

Alcohol is basically all sugar. And when you drink, you usually eat like shit on top of it. Or you lose your appetite the next morning because of the hangover. You’re throwing your body’s chemistry and digestive rhythm out of whack. You’re packing on excess calories. It’s why so many guys (and gals) get that gross fanny pack gut the more they sling those six packs around. 

And if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s the sad sack potbelly look that frankly too many fucking middle-aged dudes are bizarrely okay with having these days. 

Can’t be me, man.

7.5.) …drinking ages you

I don’t get it. Aging already degrades your appearance no matter how well you take care of yourself, or how evolved your genes. But alcohol puts rocket thrusters on the whole crypt-keeper look-a-like deal. 

It dries out your skin. 

It can give you diabetes. 

It ruins your internal organs. 

It eats your brain. 

It chews up your heart. 

And it ravages your biochemistry, until your body thinks it actually needs alcohol to function.  

Life is short enough. You’ll lose your youthful bloom and looks fast enough already. Why the hell would you hasten the process?


Nowadays

Life is better now without alcohol. I don’t miss the sickness that drinking ultimately became. I value the ability to think clearly and cleanly. When you’re younger there’s a tendency to want to run and hide from life. To cope somehow with raw reality. I think this is why binge drinking, drugs, bad relationships, or sex, can become such pitfalls. They’re escape portals from the scary real world. 

But as you get older, and the patterns of life become more familiar, you start to lose that hopeless lost at sea feeling that oftentimes plagues you when you’re just starting out. You start to appreciate things as they are. You care less about what others think. You learn to value what actually matters. And you start to lose that fear and anxiety and angst that powers a lot of bad decisions. 

Sometimes, you even look forward to dealing with problems, rather than running saway from them. You start to see them more as puzzles or opportunities rather than evil afflictions. 

This doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a process.  

I’m not an anti-alcohol born-again evangelist, or something. There’s nothing morally wrong with drinking. I still enjoy an occasional beer, usually with family, or for special occassions. It’s just alcohol is something that doesn’t jive with my programming. I realized that for me, it’ll always be a net negative. 

Plus, and this was hard to accept, but it’s too much of an addictive temptation. When I drank regularly, I could never just have one glass of brandy. It was at least three to four, until it knocked me out. It’s not easy to recognize a weakness in yourself, but eventually I had to admit the truth. But fortunately, one of my strengths is being able to pivot strongly once I’ve (finally) realized I’ve taken a wrong turn, and then learning from the mistake.

I’m glad alcohol is out of my life. Lucidity really is an underappreciated state of mind. 

‘Kuffs’: Overlooked Crime Comedy or Pure ’90s Cringe?

Source: Universal Pictures

Believe it or not, there was a time when Christian Slater was considered the King of Cool. A sort of poor man’s Jack Nicholson crossed with a cartoonier James Dean. Slater blew onto the scene in 1988’s Heathers, a dark comedy about a sexy “heroic” outcast who tries to blow up a high school.

Yeah, try making that one today.

Then came a turn as the troubled Will Scarlett in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, aka the guy Kevin Costner shoots through the hand with an arrow.

Slater would solidify himself further in 1993’s True Romance, the Quentin Tarantino-penned romantic crime drama with one of the most hilarious monologues regarding world history ever delivered. Why couldn’t my high school teachers could have made learning that delightfully scintillating?

But before going on the run with 25-year old future Oscar winner Patricia Arquette, Slater would have to do penance with a sorta funny, half-baked, dimly-plotted crime comedy with 15-year old future Resident Evil fierce femme, Milla Jovovich.

I’m talking about 1992’s dumped-in-January release Kuffs.

A movie with the ultimate ’90s tagline: “When you have attitude who needs experience?”

To which I say, “When you’ve got Rotten Tomatoes, why watch Kuffs?”

This is a brief look back at one of the minor forgotten films of the crime comedy (“cromedy”) era that was big in the ’80s through the early ’90s, until about when Tarantino (and better taste) took over and evolved the sub-genre.

I remember Kuffs popping up once on either TBS Superstation, or USA, or some non-premium cable channel back in the late ’90s. Either on a Sunday afternoon or evening. It was an oddball change-up from the usual rotation of Leon: The Professional, that weekend’s godawful Steven Seagal film, Die Hard II, and Falling Down.

Kuffs must not have proven popular even in syndication, as I only remember it coming on once, and then the channels promptly returning to Michael Douglas machine-gunning a phone booth. For the longest time I wasn’t even sure it was actually real, and not something I’d mixed up with another film. All I remembered was a scene where Slater answers the door without a shirt on (with attitude).

Then a few weeks ago, for whatever reason, the title Kuffs came to my mind, and I had to investigate the Mystery of the Shirtless Slater. So, just like a hard-boiled detective cracking open a cold case, I did a rewatch.

Source: Universal Pictures

So, what the hell is Kuffs all about?

George Kuffs is an unemployed high school dropout loser living in San Francisco who, of course, has a hot girlfriend whom he’s just knocked up. Terrified of taking responsibility for a family, he bails on the poor college girl, leaving a hastily-scribbled note about how she’s better off without him. He high-tails it to his older brother, 30-year old Brad, a respected officer in the Patrol Special Police, and begs for a loan so he can flee to Brazil.

The San Francisco Patrol Special Police is a unique privatized neighborhood security force that is not an offical part of the city police. Officers are given charters, or territories, and provide security to their residents for a rate.

After failing to secure a loan, George finds his brother gunned down brutally inside a church by a wackily-dressed hitman. Then, to make matters worse, he watches the killer walk free, in perhaps one of the most brain-dead plot points I’ve ever seen in a film. A city prosecutor (I think, it’s never made clear) explains that because Kuffs didn’t actually see the guy pull the trigger, the suspect can’t be held. This is despite Kuffs running into the church and seeing the guy standing there literally holding the gun over Brad’s body, and then the thug actually dropping the gun on the floor. I guess fingerprints, ballistics, and the fact that Kuffs sees the guys face doesn’t matter? I know it’s San Fransico, but come on, man.

Anyway, after grieving for all of two seconds over his dead brother, Kuffs finds out he’s inherited Brad’s district, and decides to straighten up his life, become a private cop, and get justice for his brother’s murder. But he soon finds out the hit on his sibling was just part of a deeper conspiracy that involves an evil businessman and $50 million in stolen art.

When it comes to these mid-’80s to early ’90s crime comedies, there are tiers. On the high end, you’ve got your fan-favorite mega-grossers like Beverly Hills Cop, 48 Hours, and even Die Hard, if you count it as a comedy. Just below that, you’ve got your quality dark comedies like Miami Blues and Falling Down. Then you’ve got the experimental cool dude flicks like Desperado and True Romance.

Kuffs sits in the medicore middle, with other forgotten cromedies. It’s not in bad company. It’s got flicks like Bill Murray’s Quick Change and Robin Williams’ Cadillac Man hanging out with it. It’s quite a precipitous drop below, where we find appallingly outrageous anti-classics like Samurai Cop and Hard Ticket to Hawaii. The latter of heavy doobie-smoking skateboard assassin fame.

Kuffs by itself is not really nostalgic for me. I only saw it once, and was left mostly unimpressed, even as a credulous teen who, at the time thought Steven Seagal was the bomb. But the spirit of the cromedy genre, and the time period from which it hails, is endearing. Back then you could get away with a ridiculous premise. All you needed was a rascally underdog protagonist, stick in a bad Hans Gruber Xerox for your villain, mix in some snarky atittude, and there you go.

It was a simpler time. Before the internet. Before audiences got savvier and actually expected better, or at least bigger. Nowadays, you’d likely only see something like Kuffs dropped on a streaming service late at night like an abandoned firehouse baby. Though the sub-genre has had its big-budget ressurgences, like 2010’s The Other Guys, the 21 Jump Street reboot, and Kevin Hart’s Ride Along.

So, what does Kuffs have going for it?

Not so much its humor, which mostly sputters. It’s largely off-putting and tonally jarring. It struggles to be edgy and irreverent, but becomes undone by over the top silliness. There’s a sleeping pill sequence that belongs in a 2000s gross-out comedy. Late in the story there’s a drug-sniffing dog joke that looks like it would have been right at home in Beethoven. And for some reason uncooked turkey becomes a recurring gag. The attempts to be clever and self-aware generally come off more as cringy and juvenile. It might have worked as a dark comedy. But it’s like the writer and director just decided to hell with it, and went with every bizarre and weird impulse, resulting in a brash and stiched-together final product. Which is odd considering both of them were Oscar nominees from previous ventures.

It has one somewhat clever scene. Kuffs and his real cop handler bicker in the car, and their swear words are bleeped out. This was done supposedly to poke fun at the PG-13 rating, which only affords a single utterance of the F-word. Though the meta mockery seems misplaced, random, and unearned.

Then there’s Kuffs’ Ferris Bueller-esque fourth wall breaking throughout the film, which I actually didn’t mind that much. Slater is no Woody Allen, à la Annie Hall, but his smarmy charisma works for the sub-genre. It reminded me a lot of Deadpool, actually. I guess every decade is entitled to its own smart ass who talks directly to the camera.

Source: MillaJ.com

Lastly, I’d be remiss not to talk about a little icky something. That wasn’t a typo up top. Milla Jovovich, the college-aged love interest, really was 15 during principal photography, while Slater was either 21 or 22. And the movie has several passionate make-out scenes. Yes, a full grown man sucks face with a minor in a mainstream studio film. Kind of hard to believe what movie studios got away with back then, and what audiences either didn’t know about, or maybe didn’t care about. Imagine pulling that with the Moral Outrage Twitter Brigade today.

Overall, I designate Kuffs as a quintessential ’90s cringe cromedy. Worth a watch to get that unique crime comedy flavor.

What’s Riskier: Marriage, or Living Next Door to Jeffrey Dahmer?

Source: https://www.biography.com/crime-figure/jeffrey-dahmer

Over the course of 13 years, Jeffrey Dahmer, also known as the “Milwaukee Cannibal,” killed 17 people. He targeted mainly young men, finding them in bathhouses, and luring them back to his house, where he would drug, rape, and murder them.

Hey, what else are you going to do for kicks living in Wisconsin, right?

Sometimes, if Jeffrey was feeling in need of further stimulation, he’d disembowel them, too. He was also a necrophiliac, and liked to preserve the body parts of his victims. When he was finally caught by police in 1991, he was in the process of building a throne made of human skulls.

Wow, that’s pretty creative, to be honest. I can’t even put together a 100-piece puzzle without having a mental breakdown, and this guy’s over here building Skeletor’s throne.

But even Jeffrey Dahmer, human plague that he was, can’t hold a candle to something far more horrifying —

The institution of marriage.

Marriage, in sharp contrast to the creepy bespectacled image of serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer, is often portrayed as a blissful union between two people who love each other, want to spend the rest of their lives together, and may even want to raise children together.

In reality, marriage is responsible for untold misery, death, and destruction, especially when it leads to divorce/separation (which is often).

So, what’s riskier: Getting hitched, or living next door to Jeffrey Dahmer?

Jeffrey committed some of his murders while living in his grandmother’s house in West Allis, Wisconsin. However, while Jeffrey killed hitchhikers and gay men in bathhouses, it’s very important to note that he never killed anyone living right next door to him. He never even killed his own grandmother, who finally asked him to move out due to the “funny smells” coming from the basement of her house.

Thesis: I contend that marriage is by far riskier and deadlier than living next door to Jeffrey Dahmer.

Don’t believe me? Well, let’s take a look at some alarming statistics about murder and marriage.

According to The Atlantic, which reported a study by the CDC, 55% of murders of American women are committed by an “intimate partner,” meaning a former or current romantic partner, or the partner’s family or friends.

Source: Huffington Post

The study goes on to report some more disturbing facts:

  • A third of the time an argument precipitated the murder, with 12% of the deaths associated with jealousy.
  • 15% of the women killed were actually pregnant at the time of death.
  • And almost half the murders were committed with a gun.

It gets even worse. Back in 2019, the Huffington Post, citing a study by Northeastern University, reported that domestic violence murders are on the rise.

  • In 2014, there were 1875 people killed by an intimate partner.
  • In 2017, that number rose to 2,237, almost a 20% increase.

Then there’s this startling little nugget:

  • “Every 16 hours, according to one estimate, a woman is fatally shot by her boyfriend, husband or ex.”

Meanwhile, here’s a few fast facts about Jeffrey’s serial killing career:

  • It lasted 13 years, between 1978 and 1991.
  • 17 boys and men were murdered, often quite gruesomly.
  • Most of Jeffrey’s victims were non-white, including a 13-year old Laotian boy.

Now, let’s consider a few points.

According to Legal Jobs, the average length of a marriage in the U.S. is only 8.2 years. That’s almost five years less than Jeffrey’s serial killing enterprise, which shows that unlike all these short-timer married folks, Mr. Dahmer possessed a capability for long-term committment. Had Jeffrey not been caught in 1991, he’d likely have just kept on killing. And why not? The dude was clearly awesome at it. Whereas it appears most people are looking to bail on their marriages A.S.A.P.

‘Till death due us part? LOL, yeah right. What a sick joke.

It’s a sad testament to today’s society when a serial killer like Jeffrey Dahmer is a greater model of reliability and dedication than the institution of marriage itself.

Furthermore, unlike with marriage, Jeffrey was a danger exclusively to males. If you’re female, he was as harmless as a Lifetime movie, though certainly far more entertaining.

But all joking aside, according to the National Center for Family and Marriage Research (NCFMR), in 2019, 2.2 million women were married, a rate that has been stable since reaching a 45-year low in 2010.

Source: NCFMR

Now, factoring in some of the above-mentioned statistics concerning intimate partner homocides, if on average 2,000 women are killed every year by their SOs, while about 2 million women are married every year, that means a woman has roughly a one tenth of one percent chance of being murdered by marriage.

Mind you, she plays those odds every year she stays married. Hmm, maybe there is something to that 8.2 year average divorce deadline, afterall.

Only about 5% of murdered men are offed by their romantic partners. In fact, about 500-750 married men are whacked each year. That works out to under three hundredths of one percent of men married each year being killed by a spouse.

Now, those numbers may look pitifully low. But they are orders of magnitude higher than Jeffrey’s body count. Jeffrey only killed 17 guys over a 13-year period. In that same period of time, marriage might have killed almost 26,000 people. Roughly the population of Neenah, Wisconsin, a small town 84 miles from Jeffrey’s birthplace of Milwaukee, and famous for making manhole covers.

Now, let’s a break from all the murder and mayhem, and discuss something far more important.

Money.

Did you know that the cost of an average wedding AND an average divorce both come out to about $20,000? Combined, that comes to a grand total of $40,000, which is just below the median income in the U.S. of $44,225, according to Zippia. For comparison’s sake, the average person only loses about $500 gambling in Las Vegas per trip.

Man, marriage can end up being a pretty big blow to one’s net worth.

But you know who never reduced anyone’s federal income tax bracket? Good ol’ “Kill ’em cheap” Jeffrey Dahmer, that’s who. A budget-minded serial killer, who often plied his victims with offers of free food and drinks to lure them back to his apartment.

This adds up to a pretty disturbing truth: Strictly financially speaking, it’s not only cheaper, but likely more profitable, to be killed by Jeffrey Dahmer, than to end up in a bad marriage, or one that leads to divorce. At least with Jeffrey you get treated to a good meal and (possibly) mindblowing sex before your visit with the Grim Reaper. Which is more than what many can say about their failed marriages, much less the dating scene itself overall.

Certainly, it’s safer (and healthier) to be Jeffrey’s next door neighbor than to be a divorcee, no matter what your gender. A study that appeared in Annals of Behavioral Medicine showed divorce linked to a “wide range of poor health outcomes, including early death.”

Meanwhile, Jeffrey’s grandmother, Catherine Jemima Hughes, whom he lived with during his first three murders, lasted to the the ripe old age of 88, dying on Christmas Day in 1992.

And this leads to a realization that really rocked my world —

It’s possible that actually being married to Jeffrey Dahmer might have been the safer option, rather than being married to some other random person. Jeffrey never killed anyone he lived with, or next to, remember.

Married folks, let me emphasize that: Statistically, you would have been safer being married to Jeffrey Dahmer than to your current husband/wife.

Finally, we get to the issue of race. As mentioned earlier, Jeffreys victims were primarily non-white. Many of these melanin-enriched unfortunates were picked up in gay bars and clubs. Which goes to show that Jeffrey, for all his shortcomings, was definitely not a racist. Or a homophobe.

The institution of marriage on the other hand? It’s practically wearing a pointy white hood.

Even though, according to Gallup, U.S. approval of interracial marriage has hit a new high of 94%, Wikipedia points out that, “White Americans were statistically the least likely to wed interracially.” Even very recently, according to Pew Research, only 19% of newlyweds in 2019 were interracial couples.

Source: Pew Research Center

By contrast, Jeffrey judged not by the color of his victim’s skin, but whether they’d make a fine addition to his skull throne. His body count was a color-blind meritocracy, just as Dr. King would have wanted. Given Jeffrey’s racial preferences, you could even say he was a devout anti-racist before it was cool to be a devout anti-racist.

The results are clear: Jeffrey Dahmer wins this debate pretty handidly. You would have been statistically safer living next door to him during his killing spree than you would have been getting married.

A quick recap:

If you’re a woman, you have a low but not insignificant chance of being murdered by your partner. But you would have had a ZERO chance whatsoever of falling prey to Jeffrey Dahmer, even if you were living with him. Or married to him.

Point goes to Jeffrey for his chivalry.

If you’re a man, you also have a greater chance of being killed by your spouse or partner than ending up part of Dahmer’s body part trophy collection.

Another point to Jeffrey.

For either sex, marriage can lead to breaking the bank. Death by Dahmer? Zero out of pocket costs. And you might even get a free dinner and drinks.

Jeffrey scores again.

Marriage itself? Sadly, still an institution rife with racism and homophobia. Meanwhile, Dahmer was all about diversity and cultural enrichment.

Jeffrey with the clincher here.

And there you have it. Jeffrey Dahmer wins out on virtually every metric that matters. You’re better off living next door to a serial killer than getting married.

Looking for a Good Time? Hop Aboard Sean Baker’s ‘Red Rocket’

Source: https://a24films.com/films/red-rocket
Source: https://a24films.com/films/red-rocket

“Life is sweet,” Mikey Saber, the former porn star and charismatic scumbag main character says in director Sean Baker’s sensational latest film, Red Rocket.

And you could say that about the movie, too.

A writer/director since 2000, Baker achieved notoriety for his experimental 2015 film Tangerine, which was shot exclusively on an iPhone 5.

Red Rocket follows washed-up porn star and manipulative degenerate Mikey Saber, a 40-something human wrecking ball of sorts, who has just fled Los Angeles under dubious circumstances, to return penniless to his hometown Texas City, TX after a 17-year absence.

To say Mikey is disliked in his hometown is a bit of an understatement. For starters, he first has to contend with his estranged wife Lexi, whom he left destitute years ago, and her bitter elderly mother, Lil.But one of Mikey’s super powers, aside from his unflinching dogged amorality, is his silver tongue. Eventually, he’s able to beg his way into staying on the couch, under the conditions that he get a job and help out with the household chores.

Mikey next runs afoul of a few moralistic diner and General Store owners, who aren’t too keen on hiring an ex-porn actor, even for petty pay. He’s forced to return to his roots as a small-time pot dealer for the local crime boss, Leondria, and her permantly scowling daughter, June.

Reduced to riding around a dead end town on a cheap bicycle peddling dope to skaters and construction workers might be enough to cause any man to despair. But not Mikey Saber, who appears filled with unshakable, if inexplicable confidence, of eventually getting his mojo back.

It’s after treating his wife and mother-in-law to a donut shop to celebrate his newfound pot gains that the story really begins — when Mikey first sets eyes on 17-year old cashier Strawberry. Not only does he become completely (and quite disgustingly) smitten with the barely legal red-headed teen, he sees a potential chance to use her to get back into the porn industry.

Source: https://a24films.com/films/red-rocket

Yeah, this guy’s a real dirtbag, if you hadn’t picked up on that already.

Despite its racy and raunchy themes, Red Rocket is one of the most thoroughly entertaining films I’ve seen in a long while. Mikey Saber, flawed as all get out, is an unforgettable character. A sexual tornado, inflicting one disaster after another on anyone within shouting distance with his impulsive and reckless behavior.

I first heard about Red Rocket from a Mike and Jay video awhile back, but didn’t get around to watching it until recently. It initially premiered in December of last year with little attention or theatrical release. But it’s been Simon Rex’s performance as Mikey that has been its primary calling card. He’s won, or been nominated for, a slew of awards for his role.

Rex’s character Mikey is somewhat of a meta performance for the actor, as he performed briefly in a few solo porn films at the start of his career. Though initially stung by the scandalous reveal of his explicit films during his rise in the early 2000s, now at age 47, Rex saw the role as suitcase pimp and lascivious manipulator as an opportunity. He says in The Daily Beast:

“I was at a point where I just had nothing to lose, like at my age and with my career,” he says. “I don’t mean to say ‘I don’t care,’ but I truly was just like, ‘Fuck it. I’ve got nothing to lose.’ I could just go for it and not worry.”

Meanwhile, Baker has established himself as a very unconventional and unique indy director. Just as The Florida Project and Tangerine, two films I definitely want to check out, he doesn’t shy away from showing the raw and risqué side of Americana

But aside from Baker’s technical sophistication and Rex’s superb portrayal, Red Rocket is just a blast. Mikey Saber ranks up there with the types of unforgettable characters that make movies worth watching. Characters like Taxi Driver’s Travis Bickle, Pulp Fiction’s Vincent Vega and Jules Winnfield, or Howard Ratner of Uncut Gems. The kind of seemingly otherwordly characters that remain grounded enough to make you think they could actually be real people. Everyone knows a Mikey Saber-type, either from high school, or maybe more recently in life. You know, the charming bastard who lives life by the skin of his teeth, yet still is somehow a panty-dropper. T-rash with a capital “T.” Yeah, that guy.

Check out Red Rocket as soon as you can. It’s a real trip.

Choosing a Book Cover: Not always an Easy Task

Photo by Monstera: https://www.pexels.com/photo/book-with-white-hard-cover-on-table-6373305/

But a fun and fulfilling one, for sure.

For my latest self-published novel, The Lek, I used Fiverr to find a designer to make the book cover.

Fiverr is a fantastic resource, by the way. You can find pretty much any kind of freelancer on there. Ghostwriters, copywriters, video editors, animators, songwriters, voice over artists, programmers, beta readers, and consultants in virtually any field.

I’d used Fiverr before for my first novel, Nemesis. A story about a middle-aged suburban father who’s contacted by a mysterious organization with a strange offer: To eliminate one enemy in his life. The choice is easy. He has his abusive father, now elderly, and in a retirement home, killed in clandestine fashion. It all seemingly goes according to plan. Until his estranged twin sister, a paranoid schizophrenic, shows up, determined to take him down and get justice for her father’s murder by any means possible.

Nemesis was a darkly humorous psychological “suburban thriller” in the vein of the 2015 Jason Bateman film, The Gift, or Scott Smith’s brilliant and intense 1993 novel, A Simple Plan. I’ve always been drawn to stories with fiery family dramas, interpersonal conflicts from the past left unresolved, or that involve some kind of moral dilemma. David Cronenberg’s 2005 film A History of Violence probably encapsulates everything I look for in a smart thriller.

I’ve found that most thriller book covers tend to be pretty basic. Nemesis was my first self-published novel. So I went with something straightforward.

Cover of my book, Nemesis

I think the results were acceptable. I didn’t exert much scrutiny toward the design. It was my first experience hiring a designer on Fiverr. I didn’t really know what to expect. And I hardly communicated much of a “vision” for the design.

Good communication is very important when working with a designer.

You can’t expect a stranger to just intuititively know what’s in your head. This was a learning process for me, who, like I suspect many writers, has a bad habit of getting stuck in my own throught process.

The Lek cover proved a challenge. In contrast to the more grounded Nemesis, The Lek is a trippy, irreverent and provokably profane dystopian satire about a deadly contest where males compete for reproduction rights with a female.

For more details, check out the article I wrote on The Lek here.

For that kind of bizarro concept, I needed a cover that really communicated the weird, wild, and exotic environment of an X-Rated story filled with a lot of sex and violence.

While writing The Lek I drew on inspirations from such dystopian favorites of mine like Anthony Burgess’ A Clockwork Orange, Harlan Ellison’s A Boy and His Dog, as well as Stephen King’s The Long Walk and The Running Man. So naturally, I wanted a cover that not only evoked the elements of the story, but that era as well. Sci-fi book covers back in the ’60s and ’70s used to be awesomely psychedelic and high-concept, especially for authors like Kurt Vonnegut and Philip K. Dick. It truly was an experimental age.

Of course, communicating that vision proved tricky. Not everyone will vibe with that. It really is interesting how different artists will interpret your ideas for a cover in their own unique ways. This led to a few false starts before getting to the type of cover I wanted. But I enjoyed the whole process, and I found it a good learning experience.

It also helped get me out of my comfort zone. As a writer, it’s so easy to get used to working alone, and doing your own thing. But there can be a lot of components that go into content creation, whether we’re talking writing freelance articles, copywriting, or self-publishing a book about twelve dudes trying to win a deadly contest so they can bang a hottie.

There’s also marketing, which is something I’m just now beginning to learn about. It’s embarassing how little I know about it, but I’m trying to change that. The actual physical discipline of producing the written word I’ve never had an issue with. I know how to smash words out, baby. It’s getting those words out in front of people— selling myself — that I’ve always struggled with. But that’s for another article.

Anyway, here are a few designs I considered before getting to my chosen one. I thought it would be interesting to go through the book cover selection process of self-publishing. Feel free to tell me what you think of each one.

The first design team I went with was based overseas, and had a lot of attractive samples on their Fiverr profile page. They actually produced two samples based on my ideas for something trippy and ‘70s-era sci-fi-ish.

Cover Attempt One:

A rejected cover for my novel, The Lek

I didn’t care for this cover at all when I first saw it. Then I kind of warmed up to it a little bit. It captures the bloody nature of the Lek gauntlet contest that occurs in the book. There are a lot of creative kills as the males are picked off over the course of the story.

This cover also indictes the thriller aspect of the story, à la King’s The Long Walk. The deep ruby red hints at not only the intensity, but the violence, and maybe even a little bit of the dystopian nature. I did like the “X,” as a subtle reference to the name of my name character, or as perhaps a symbol of the the Lek contest itself.

This rendering certaintly has a few good things going for it. The problem is that it’s far too serious. It doesn’t evoke the main genre — satire. Doesn’t hint at the dark humor, or the weird playfulness of the concept, much less the sexuality throughout the novel. It’s certainly not trippy or ‘70’s-ish. A cover like this indicates more of a straightforward thriller. It makes me think Robert Ludlum, Frederick Forsyth, or even Tom Clancy.

Plainly put, it misreprents the story.

This is the challenge when working with graphic designers through a freelance website as an indy author. Unlike with a traditional publishing outfit, where the in-house staff has read your book, and likely knows how to convey your wacky-ass idea in a cover design, you won’t necessarily have that luxury through Fiverr. It’s a bit more hands on.

As for the second cover sample, it completely missed the mark.

Cover Attempt Two:

A second rejected cover for my novel, The Lek

About the only thing somewhat redeemable about this cover is the apocalytpic background with the collapsed buildings. Other than that, it doesn’t work at all, as it evokes a 1950’s-era monster movie type story like Attack of the 50 Foot Woman, Attack of the Crab Monsters, or Tarantula!.

This is an example of where sometimes a designer can take things too literally from a description or from the ideas you submit. In my story, the title of the female the males are competing for is “Queen Bee.” And not just because she’s the most beautiful and desirable female in the Lek’s history. But because, as the title suggests, she’s expected to reproduce prodigiously with her Lek winner to help repopulate the earth. There is not an actual killer bee chasing any of the males. And the cover doesn’t work as a visual metaphor either, as none of the men are running from the contest, but indeed, quite excitedly toward it, grisly potential deaths be damned. So, like the first cover, this one misrepresents the story.

After rejecting these two samples, I realized something. I was going to have grab the bull by the horns here. See, up until this point, I’d been merely communicating a general idea — the gist — of what I wanted. I figured that would be enough. But that’s hardly fuel adequate for a designer. You need specifics. You need a clear visual with details. Basically, you’ve got to do everything but draw the damn thing yourself.

All the designers I messaged on Fiverr were talented artists. But designers on there are also time-constrained. The impression I got was that they would prefer to simply be told specifically what to make, rather than brainstorm ideas for the cover. Other designers on there may work differently, but that was the experience I had with the ones I dealt with.

To be clear, all of the struggles I encountered were 100% my fault due to inadequate communication.

Even though I was still pretty new to the cover design game on Fiverr, I definitely could have done a better job articulating what I wanted. I certainly will in the future.

It also doesn’t help that I’m a habitual maximizer. But, that too, is for another article.

After climbing up that learning curve, I decided to finally try out an idea I’d had, but remained a little hesitant about revealing. I thought about why exactly I was drawn to the psychedelic ‘70’s-era book covers for my novel. It was the experimental, carnival tone that they conveyed, mostly. It was also how many of them really took advantage of their out-of-left-field concepts by illustrating something striking and different. As opposed to your standard cover for a thriller novel of a guy running, or a dude holding a gun or something.

They also tended to use simple visual metaphors to represent the central conceit of the story. Oftentimes, in a minimalist manner. Minimalist book covers are a whole sub-category unto themselves. There are a lot of artists on Fiverr who specialize in those. Here are a few examples of what I’m talking about.

For The Lek, I didn’t think a minimalist take would work, though I was drawn to the design aesthetic initially. So instead, I went with something a bit more audacious.

The Final Cover:

Cover for my novel, The Lek

I really like this cover because it conveys the tone, conceit, genre, and humor of the novel pretty, well, starkly. It’s colorful without being too garish or clashing. It gives a sense of playfulness and adventure while hinting at some of the dark themes. It also subtly pokes fun at the takes-itself-too-seriously Young Adult dystopian sub-genre that my novel satirizes. Most importantly, it sticks the sexuality front and center.

Overall, I found the process of coming up with a book cover more challenging than I anticipated. It’s strange how I have no problem writing tens of thousands of words imagining all sorts of crazy scenarios, but developing a cover proves problematic. The whole ordeal helped me to be more appreciative of design artists, and showed me the importance of good communication when sharing my ideas. The book cover step in self-publishing may not be the most important. But it is a crucial one. At least next time it shouldn’t be as formidable.

Releasing My Second Novel, THE LEK

Available on Amazon Kindle.

I’ve just released my second novel, The Lek, on Amazon Kindle. For now, it’s available as an ebook, but I’ll release the softcover version in the near future.

Here’s the summary:

—

THE LEK. An irreverent, X-Rated, dystopian satire.

In a post-apocalyptic future where procreation is strictly regulated, twelve males, known as Potential Seeders, pre-selected by a female, known as a Queen Bee, must compete in a deadly competition known as the Lek, a gauntlet comprised of twelve challenges. The winner earns not only reproductive rights with the female, but a place in a utopian society called Haven, built for the New Humanity. 

“X,” a charismatic and cunning cripple, and eleven other males, are competing for Jezschwick Klump, the most beautiful Queen Bee in the Lek’s history. But Jez, a rebellious and clever girl, having escaped her handlers, has determined to destroy the Lek by any means possible.

While the males are eliminated one by one over the course of the gauntlet, Jez’s fledgling rebellion gradually unites the districts against the Lek.

But can the Lek really be toppled? Can true freedom be obtained? Jez will have to join forces with X to find out the truth.

—

I’ve usually referred to it as an X-Rated Hunger Games.

Writing The Lek is, without a doubt, the most fun I’ve ever had on a novel. It combines my dark, irreverent sense of humor with a lot of sex and violence, all streamlined into a pretty tight, well-structured, and fast-paced action/adventure.

It’s also a bit of a mix of various post-apocalytpic/dystopian type novels and movies I love. Harlan Ellison’s A Boy and His Dog is a big influence. As are other classic works like Anthony Burgess’ A Clockwork Orange, Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World, and Stephen King’s The Running Man and The Long Walk.

I was inspired to write it out a desire to lampoon the rash of Young Adult dystopian novels and movies that started with the massive popularity of The Hunger Games, Divergent, and The Maze Runner. For awhile, it seemed like every weekend there was a new movie or book about plucky teenagers somehow managing to overthrow an autocratic militarized regime. Always set in the same run-down dystopian world where there’s a severe class divison between the unwashed masses and the thin sliver of political elite, people wear burlap sacks for clothes, government officials lecture from jumbo TV screens, and all of society is at the tipping point for a revolution, needing only a handful of attractive teenagers to light the way. I remember watching the previews for Hunger Games and thinking of the absurdity of a teenaged girl with a bow and arrow somehow taking out a Nazi-level government.

Obviously, these are young adult power fantasy books about sticking it the Man, confounding the adult world, trying to find your place in society, upending the established order with your own beliefs, asserting your own independence, and, of course, struggling with a hot love triangle all the while. I get it. They have a certain appeal. They’re not bad books, per se. They’re obviously popular as hell, and still selling. I think there’s actually a fourth Hunger Games movie in production. They’re going to the well again. I guess people are already nostalgic for 2012-16.

But like any good trend that runs its course, themes start to get recycled, plot points repeated, characters cloned. And pretty soon the whole thing begins to invite mockery and parody.

I’m not sure where the exact idea came from for The Lek. But one day it dawned on me that so many of these YA dystopian books were really more romantic soap operas dressed up as action thrillers. Throw in a slightly unique location/set-piece/premise, rinse wash repeat, and there you go. I still don’t know what the hell Divergent is even supposed to be about, and I’ve read the premise like ten times.

So why not just get right to the point of what a lot of these books are subtextually all about: mate competititon.

The idea of males having to compete in a deadly gauntlet for the right to reproduce with a female struck me as hilariously subversive. Always a key thing I look for when deciding on which novel to start next. It also felt metaphorically reflective of how mate selection feels sometimes in the modern world, where there’s endless dating apps, OnlyFans, empowered man-hating feminists, simps, chads, incels, femcels, and a widespread societal disregard for marriage and commitment. Both sexes suffer under these conditions. But I wanted to write a story that articulated what it feels like, as a man, to battle against the pressures of male competition, to hurl endless messages into the Great Unrequited Void, the struggles to meet someone in a new place, or to meet anyone at all. A book that captured the uncanny sense of hopelessness one feels trying to achieve the Holy Grail of oneness, and the oftentimes boring emptiness that follows after achieving supposed “success” in that pursuit.

At its core, The Lek is also about the lengths men will go to fuck a hot chick. Even to the point of risking life and limb.

But what is a “lek” anyway?

“Lek mating” is a scientific term that refers, according to Wikipedia, to an “aggregation of male animals gathered to engage in competitive displays and courtship rituals, known as lekking, to entice visiting females which are surveying prospective partners with which to mate.”

In the post-apocalyptic world of The Lek, procreation is regulated by a centralized government authority, which oversees a number of districts organized by labor specialty. Due to radioactive fallout and toxicity from rampant pollution, the global population has collapsed. As has man’s reproductive abilities. Sterility is widespread. This puts a high premium on healthy women capable of delivering successful births. And a value, though by no means a substantial one, on verile males able to play their role in the game. But just as in biology, where sperm is cheap and eggs are expensive, it is the fertile “Queen Bees” who are given the greatest status, and exercise the right to choose their own pool of male suitors. They hold all the gatekeeping cards to the next generation. Though to be clear, it’s expected they perform prodigiously once a mate has won his Lek gauntlet. The New Humanity ain’t gonna birth itself.

The Lek contest is held in a massive, labyrinthine skyscraper-sized structure built into the side of a mountain, and is comprised of twelve deadly challenges. Whoever manages to survive until the end is the winner.

Incidentally, and this was something I picked up mainly via osmosis while writing The Lek, but there is a global declining birthrate, in addition to worldwide declining sperm count and male fertility. When you combine those two factors with increasing industrialization, economic disparities and systemic collapses, and the fact that more and more women put off marriage and pregnancy until later in life, and you have a vicious cocktail for a population collapse. This is something Tesla CEO Elon Musk has been warning about for years, and become more vocal about recently.

I tend to be drawn toward stories that give me the opportunity to explore social issues or cultural phenomenon with a darkly humorous narrative vehicle. Like many writers, I’m constantly amused by humanity, and all its quirks. Especially my own.

That’s not to say I tried to make The Lek some great intellectual work. I’m not an academic in the strict sense. I don’t write to educate or preach. I write to provoke. I write to to entertain. To share my voice. I write because I thoroughly enjoy getting into the flow of a story.

Hopefully, I’ve written an engaging, relatable, and relevant book in The Lek. I wrote this story in the spring of 2019. Technically, it’s my third novel, but the second that I’ve self-published. I hope you enjoy it. Please feel free to leave reviews or offer feedback.

Finally, a special thanks to Handpedia, a freelance artist on Fiverr, who designed the cover art for my book. I wanted something with a trippy, retro design. Something that was reminiscent of sci-fi book covers from the 1970’s, such as those seen on Kurt Vonnegut or Philip K. Dick novels. I think Handpedia did a great job bringing my concept to life.