Fucking Day: How to Pick Up Girls!

It's Fucking Day, and I'm going to add an element of fate to today's 🌭. I'm going to close my eyes and grab a random thing from the expansive and disgusting "Sex" section of my library. Okay, I've picked... Eric Weber's HOW TO PICK UP GIRLS! Featuring interviews with 25 beautiful girls!. Seems like a fun one. It's from 1970, when chick-hounding was a pretty young science, but it might be interesting to compare what happened to these ladies with what their granddaughters are going through today.

Let's go through it toge-- wait, this is strange. HOW TO PICK UP GIRLS! opens with several title pages and some other takes from the cover photo shoot. The first ten pages alternate between saying nothing or saying just HOW TO PICK UP GIRLS! It's like Eric can't bring himself to start his own book. Is it possible he doesn't know how to pick up girls?

Maybe we'll find out later.

I feel like screaming HOW TO PICK UP GIRLS! at the reader six times before getting to this point is introduction enough, but Eric tries an intro anyway. He tells the hypothetical story of you running down a "delicious-looking" stranger, so already we, the reader, know we're not the good guy. We are only three paragraphs into this and, like the women Eric Weber chases to their homes and cars, I am starting to sense something is wrong.

Oh my god. Holy fucking shit, this is technically the first page of the book. It is the first page of HOW TO PICK UP GIRLS! and the author has already just baaaaaaaaaaarely not confessed to rape. If this is advice, and I think it is, he's told us to find a hot girl, chase her like a rapist, and consider raping her. I knew Eric was going to be some kind of celibate prototype, but this is more than we signed on for. This is like going into a compound to take out an outbreak of incels and finding some kind of Alpha incel with unfuckability far too dangerous for the weapons you brought.

This is still the introduction! Eric is, in his words, closing in on her and thinking up ways to, again his words, tear her clothes off and bite her. Grabbing her by the hair and dragging her to an undisclosed location is still on the table! And this is how he's chosen to relate to us! We already knew the entire concept of the book from the title on the cover and the title on the five title pages. If any book required no introduction, it's the one about picking up girls called HOW TO PICK UP GIRLS!, so this is just so we can better understand Eric and what he's about. And he's all about sprinting after women, literally one impulse away from murder or worse.

Oh, thank Christ. He let her go. She went home to tell her friends about the pervert who chased her down the street, probably not knowing the full extent of the danger she was in. Eric, by his own account, went home to fantasize about her for days and weeks before writing a book on how you can too! This is the worst introduction you or I will ever read. No author has ever demonstrated such a lack of expertise, writing ability, or self awareness so immediately. If you bought a book on how to raise cats and it opened with, "Get to Omaha. I left three puppies in a toilet." next to a map of the X-Men mansion, it would communicate the exact same thing as the introduction to Eric Weber's HOW TO PICK UP GIRLS!-- the person who wrote this is criminally insane and confused about fucking everything.

I can't speak to the universal experience of being a 1970s bachelor and having your Aunt Hortense ask you to fuck her neighbor. This is a man who opened his book by suggesting, "I could have had sex if I had only found the courage to say something to the woman I was chasing," so it's possible he's lost perspective on how human relationships work. Anyway, his point is, your Aunt isn't always going to be there with a free woman. So we need a Plan B.

Eric Weber is a lot of things. A threat to society, yes. A goddamn idiot, sure. A man who died a virgin in prison, I hope so. But he does seem to be honest. Notice how he doesn't brag about all the foxy babes he's laid-- he brags about all the "extraordinary women" he's fallen "passionately in love with." And even this early in the book we know that to Eric that means "he saw a pedestrian." Yet with every reason to lie and no way for readers to fact check him, he still admits all his romantic triumphs are wishing really hard he could touch strangers.

Let's get back to the story of "THE REDHEAD THAT GOT AWAY," but first, fun grammar fact: "THAT" is used to refer to an object, not a person. If Eric thought of women as "people," this chapter would have been called "THE REDHEAD WHO GOT AWAY." And that is how you use your fourth grade education to spot a psychopath! The other is cursive!

So, Eric, you looked at a woman on the bus and then she left!? How is this a story anyone tells? This is nothing. This is finding a medium-range coupon for a product you're not interested in. Hold on a second... I know I said we were going to go through this book together, page-by-page, but I think I should read the rest of it real quick.

Okay, I'm back. And I'm very excited to share this news with you. This, THE REDHEAD THAT GOT AWAY, is the only personal dating story Eric tells in HOW TO PICK UP GIRLS!. Every anecdote about a technique working was told to him by one of the "25 beautiful girls" he interviewed or "a good friend of his." Which means, this, staring at a woman on the bus, is Eric Weber's greatest sexual conquest.

It's amazing. It's simply the most breathtaking failure I've ever seen. There's no analogy for it. It's, without playing any games with language, a book about seducing women written by a rapist whose only dating story is the time he stared at a woman until she got off the bus.

So this is it, people of the world. I've found it. The worst thing.

I don't know why we're still going. Eric has already made all other bad books obsolete. And now his advice to get girls is, "You know, just talk to them! It's easy, you go up and talk to them. That's pretty much it! Talking is all there is to it!" It's like he asked all three people he knew how they managed to have sex and he realized the one thing their stories had in common was talking! Eureka! Talking was the key!

Is this what happened in 1970 when you left the stupid alone with their imagination and a boner? They created these fantasy worlds where aunts gave you big-tittied women and horny commuters made love to anyone brave enough to call their knees sensational?

You're probably on board with how this guy is a fucking madman, but maybe you're saying, "Give him a break. Like the chapter title says, it's THE FIRST STEP of picking up chicks. He needs to cover the basics." You're wrong! That was the end of his wisdom! Talking! There are four more paragraphs explaining how "saying literally anything" is the big secret to crushing ass and there is no chapter called THE SECOND STEP. The next chapter is called...

I've had my criticisms about Eric Weber's writing abilities, but I can't imagine anyone demonstrating the depth of their hatred for women more efficiently than this. The idea of a woman getting picked up, Eric's greatest ambition and life's work, disgusts him. These fat, smelly beasts that teeter upon shoes the color of sin... bah! Eric Weber sprints after only the finest, most sensational of terrified flesh!

To answer WHO GETS PICKED UP?, a question the author himself called "good," it's obviously "everyone." All women get picked up and he rewords that for four pages giving no details or advice other than the dumbest thing anyone could say if you asked them which girls are open to dating. I'm convinced no one has known less about anything than Eric Weber knows about women, and I'm fascinated with his decision to write a book on it. Was this a prank by his prison psychologist? Are we seeing some kind of primordial super male privilege?

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha I guess that answers that. The only thing this book teaches us is, word-for-word, exactly what's wrong with the author.

If you think women aren't bored and lonely because of their shitty lives and lack of hobbies, you're, again these are Eric's exact words, "out of your mind." I'm not sure this advice will help anyone find romance, but it could help you get out of jury duty if the defendant, victim, judge, or either lawyer is a woman.

Speaking of women, the "25 beautiful girls" Eric interviewed are not a lot of help. They'll say things like, "I prefer to date men with warm hearts. A little kindness goes a long way with me," and Eric will interpret that as, "Look, all you have to do to get in a woman's panties is be nice. Faking kindness is all there is to it. This whole time, niceness. One positive word, and these awful cows will put their feet in your mouth. You can tell they all want it. My friend met a girl and she did full mouth foot behind Arby's five minutes after he said she had far out elbows."

Eric Weber thinks going to a place where there are lots of women and not very many men is brilliant in italics, and he gives precisely one example: ballet class. It might be the first actionable advice in the book. This isn't another list of dangerously unlikely stereotypes-- this is something you can do! Find an adult ballet class and fuck it! Simple! But brilliant.

The girls are sitting there at home! Alone! So horny! So horny. Just like you, so horny. And these girls will hop into bed, again these are Eric's exact words, "with someone. Anyone. Just to relieve their horniness." All you need to do is get in there. You could rush through their door after you pretend to be a postman? Check to see if they left a window open? Again, Eric's dating advice seems to be "nothing only scary" followed by "try to exist in a world where women give free sex to any man who asks."

The rest of the chapter is eight sentences long, and every single one of them rewords the same advice-- women are so goddamn horny, maybe. You know, I bet even after all this, you think that's an exaggeration. Well, here. Look:

This is a real challenge for me, talking about a book so far beyond any hyperbole I could ever imagine. Next he's probably going to tell you the best way to meet girls is to explain, in filthy detail, all the sexual things you're going to do to them.

Yeah, makes sense. So I guess the next step is to make sure this stranger knows you're not casually flirting-- you're going to, for real, fucking penetrate her. Even though the hospital called to tell you your mother is dying, you're going to condomlessly inseminate this girl in a bathroom.

"This bit he's doing is getting weird," you might be thinking to yourself. "Unless... no. Surely there isn't a page saying exactly all of this. Impossible. Even for Eric Weber." You fool, look at this!

So let's go over Eric's advice. Women are simple. All you do is talk to them because they're sad, horny pieces of shit. But they're cautious, so you need to talk dirty and really let them know what you're going to do to their bodies. Run toward them if time is a factor because as a man, you deserve this. Got it? Okay, let's read the chapter CUTE FEET.

The chapter CUTE FEET is not what you think. It's about how women are insane and get turned on by every part of men, especially the gross parts. Bald spots, ugly faces, feet... it doesn't matter. If you went into this book an unattractive virgin who thought women had beauty standards, social skills, restraint, judgement, or the ability to assess danger, all this will come as great news.

The chapter on RELAX is how none of these sexual assaults matter. In fact, if a girl is forced to physically attack you to get rid of you, a judge might see things your way! It's quite seriously the last piece of knowledge Eric Weber should be armed with. But try not to think about it. All you need to remember is this: relaxing is the key.

But you know, if you can't relax, that doesn't matter either.

Okay, I think you're ready! Remember, it goes charge, dirty talk, dirty talk with intent, feet, relax, fidget! It's what you deserve as a man and what they deserve for never learning to golf! It honestly seems so easy I don't think anyone needed to write this book. Bye!