Monkeycocks: and I am a proud fucking nerd

So we’re leaving the theater yesterday... and by the way, treat yourself to Spy because it is fucking worth it. And I see this poster of a typical muscle guy and the poster above read MMXXL.

Now to be fair, I didn’t know about the XXL part. Probably because I didn’t care. All I know is that I’m sitting there doing the math in my head and thinking, why would someone write 2,030 in that way? Shouldn’t it just be MMIII?

Oh. Okay. So today I just saw the advertisement on during Bones.

Magic Mike XXL. Gotcha. Yeah.

Because we have that. And we have Entourage. Hey women, how about we do a movie about smart men sometime? Men who make a difference in the world? Men AND women who are reshaping the way we see the world?

Ernest Cline gets it:

(Click here if the embed doesn’t work)

I wish more thought this way. The brain needs to be seen as sexy too. We need to evolve. We pay billions to muscly guys just to watch them move a ball, while ignoring what the schools are actually there for. We beat on the smart guys and then live in the luxuries of the advancements of science that they give to us, never thanking them. We shower attention on that which gives us zero progress and zero lasting worth.

In short, we’re fucking peacocks.

People assume evolution works as constant improvement, but that’s bullshit. It often works quite illogically. While sometimes it works in a random reassortment of traits within a new population of the species (genetic drift), or it works through the well-known passing on of the strongest specimen in a competition (survival of the fittest), it also often works through a method scientists like to jokingly call ladies’ choice.

And in peacocks, there’s no logic at all. Peacocks fuck with the most colorful male that catches their eye, even though there’s zero survival value in those colors.

That’s what we do. We’re causing the Idiocracy because we’re aroused by muscles that won’t even be passed on to the offspring. What is more likely to be passed on to them is that your muscly father you’ve chosen for your mating is too fucking vain to care about you or your kids, and will run off with some younger model when things get rough.

Intelligence can be passed on, however. And the intelligent man will more likely care for you and value your children, not just as potential atheletes, teaching them to value themselves based on how physically attractive they are, but also how well they can move that fucking ball from the 30 yard line to the end zone... but to value knowledge and wisdom, and their imagination and its potential to bring amazing change.

I say we’re peacocks. Ernest Cline says we’re monkeys:

We're Monkeycocks.

And we’re seriously leading ourselves to the stupidest possible outcome of our species when we could be moving to amazing potential. But hey, at least you got a couple of touchdowns and had some disappointing orgasms with people who pretended you didn’t exist afterward. Good on you.