I actually intended for this to be a stub in my daily post, but it soon got out of hand and progressed from stub -> paragraph -> WallOfText +999dmg. To add to the irony of me writing this after I've written the stuff below, but having it up here instead, here's what I realised: 1) I think waaaay too much for my own good, and 2) I need an editor to proofread my rants. 3) I've been reeeeal mindful of my language on this blog, only because my mom reads it.
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1) It was actually Ben Stiller who was the male lead, not Jim Carrey. Jim was in Me, Myself and Irene. In what way I made the connection I have no idea. (P.S. Cameron Diaz was/is still hot.)
2) The movie is actually a sad and scary parody of real life. It's happening everywhere, in schools, at workplaces, etc. Whenever there's vested interest in a girl, even a remotely attractive one, all sensibilities fly out of the window. Enter The Game™.
Guys are reduced to mere animals fuelled by instinct and desire, presenting themselves as the perfect candidate to their target of affection. And they will do anything, to the point of downplaying, lying about and ruining other peoples' (presumably male) lives. Just like in the movie, they go to great lengths to improve their image, to impress the female subject, till they aren't themselves anymore.
This bothers me especially because I'm a stickler for intellectual discourse. Sure I enjoy the occasional burp/fart/potty joke, especially in the company of many fine men, but the conversations are mostly of a certain calibre. Throw an even somewhat acceptable girl into the mix and suddenly everyone starts tripping over themselves trying to make their presence known at all cost. And no one will be able to say they won't behave like that, unless of course you're a poof, in which case I'll kindly direct you to the back door, good sir.
I know because I see it happening all around me, and I only made such observations starting from my JC days. It's a jungle out there, males preening themselves and exhibit their physique in a bid to secure their positions at the top of the pile. The girls only serve to excerbate the situation further, by playing along with their little mind games which just takes The Game™ to a whole new level. You screw up? BAM! You lose! Down the ladder! Next!
Now this annoyed me to no end, but unfortunately being one of many hypercharged vessels of hormones, there's no choice but to be a player. It was an unescapable reality. It made you do stupid things infront of people, especially the ones that mattered. Warps and contorts you into being someone you aren't. Stuttering, hesitation, hem & haw-ing, "Y'know...", periods of awkward silence, all point to signs of inadequacy, you're falling behind buddy.
Especially worse so for those who knew they didn't even stand a fighting chance in The Game™, but primitive programming for successful propogation of own genes dictated that they had to do it, against all rationality. Ever watched Animal Planet, or one of them animal documentaries? There will come a scene where a runt or weak male will challeng the α-male, only to have its ass whooped and sent away with its proverbial tail between its legs. It was just especially sad to see them try and fail even though they knew they had no fighting chance, save a miracle.
Luckily, a short 2 years led to a brief respite of another 2. All was well and everyone enjoyed their time away from The Game™ being a dominant factor that dictated their everyday behavior. (Of course, that was replaced with another, namely submitting to power.)
All things must come to an end, so they say. Released from our shackles of mandatory service, we are unleashed into the wild again, but this time, with more experience tucked under our arms and less hormones coursing through our veins. I find myself in a foreign land, only to see the same ol', same ol' once again, The Game™. I hate it, and I am resisting the call to arms here, but I still can't help but partake in such tomfoolery. It's coded in my genes, and its only purpose is to ensure its survival through the passage of time. Which is why I'm back playing ball, only now I choose whom to play with.
tl;dr, I'm doing stupid things, behaving like a fool, but I can't help it because I'm programmed to do so, and you're programmed to make me exhibit such behavior. It's the reason why I loathe human interactions in general, because, to quote Plato in Phaedo, "The body fills us with loves and desires and fears and a lot of nonsense, so that we never get a chance to think about anything. Wars and fights...are due only to the body and its desires..."
Of course I could be over-generalising and you don't agree with my point of view, but it's a free world out there (I'm not in Singapore at the moment, suckas!) and I'm entitled to my flawed(?) opinion. You can disagree and say you've never seen The Game™ in action at all, in which I have only three words for you, "Get a Life".
Damn my gonads for making me less of a(n) (intelligent) human.
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