Virtual Reality Sex (It would suck).

All I really want is a real life Star Trek Holodeck. Is that so much to ask? A fully submersive virtual reality where anything, and I mean anything, is possible. It would be the greatest invention the world has ever known. Who wouldn’t want to spend an afternoon fighting ninjas, shooting robots with lasers, eating mushrooms with Mario, getting drunk with Frank Sinatra and boning Anne Hathaway on top of Mount Everest while simultaneously playing the ass kickingist guitar solo the world has ever heard? Nobody, that’s who!

In the 1980’s and 90’s, as technology pushed onward full steam ahead, a future full of awesome Holodecks seemed possible. Computers were getting faster processors and larger hard drives for all that porn slowly downloaded from dial-up modems. Video game systems were fighting a proxy war via plumbers and hedgehogs which no prophets predicted. CGI was making it’s debut in the theaters in movies like Terminator 2 and Jurassic Park which impressed some film makers so much that they decided CGI is the only thing needed to compensate for awful, awful storytelling. It was only natural to wonder what was the next step but the consensus goal came down to one thing; virtual reality.

This does not help the goofy nerd stereotype.

Virtual reality was the most hyped future advancement during those decades. Flying cars, bionic body parts, space travel, and fucking hoverboards all came second to VR (and ignoring hoverboards should be deemed a crime against humanity). Tech companies played around with all sorts of headsets and other peripherals to achieve a fully submersive 3-D environment in which somebody can live out their disgusting fantasies. It wasn’t just about trying to achieve realistic 3-D environments you could see but actually be a part of, kind of like combining a 3-D movie with a video game. Basically it’s Scott Pilgrim vs. The World except the always awkward Michael Cera is not awkwardly turning Scott Pilgrim into a much more awkward character than he is supposed to be. Instead, you get to play Scott Pilgrim. It should be noted, Mary Elizabeth Winstead can stay on as my Ramona though. She can “stay on” my anything.

Do the carpets match the drapes?

While investors where looking to put virtual reality in all kinds of fields, the general public only really cared about it’s uses for entertainment. The questions consumers ask about new technology are: “How do I have sex with it?” and “Will it judge me for the things I use it for?” So it should come as no surprise when many people thought virtual reality would be a knock out for sex when sex with anybody would be possible in theory.

Than people saw Demolition Man.

All cops in the future will look like this.

In the 1993 movie, there is a scene between Sylvester Stallone and Sandra Bullock in which they engage in the lamest sex scene of all time via virtual reality headsets. Bullock seems to get a kick out of it because it’s all she’s ever known but Stallone is confused and a little angry. That may not be a fair assessment however as all of Stallone’s characters always comes off as “a little angry” but the point stands.

It would be fine if it was replacing porn but in this scenario the VR replaces a willing participant making the device unnecessary. Why anybody would think this is an upgrade is a little too obsessed with technology, not to mention in Demolition Man the woman happens to be Sandra Bullock. Hell, I’m amazed Sylvester Stallone didn’t go all Rambo on the offices of whatever company made the VR sets when he was cheated out of sex with Bullock. His boner would have to be classified as a lethal weapon.

The movie gave people the impression that VR will never be real enough. They want VR sex to be as real as possible because they can’t get the real Anne Hathaway, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Sandra Bullock or whoever. VR is limited to simply being 3-D porn and having to slay the crotch dragon by yourself for any physical stimulation.

In remembrance of the slain crotch dragon. It was gracious in defeat.

Virtual reality can’t reproduce the “physical” aspect of sex no matter how hard they try. (Wait, something with electrodes. Yeah, electrodes attached to your junk! That might work. Don’t knock it till you tried it!) Besides, how physically real would you want it to be if you use the VR to fight alien ninja’s and take a katana to the midsection? How physically real would you want it to be when you are fighting a demon when it possesses you and turns you into the Crypt Keeper? How real do you want your creepy furry sex when you contract a rare disease that normally only rabbits get? It can’t be real enough for sex, but for other fantasies there is a limit to how real it should be.

Plan B, a hat made out of fantasies and the tears of children.

But I guess virtual reality’s offspring known as modern 3-D is good enough for most people. Nobody really cares about the fully submersive virtual reality anymore and the argument that VR sex would suck played a large part. Luckily, we have Japan’s booming sex robot market to fill the void of virtual sex. Sure, the robot is mostly a glorified blow up doll and sure, it’s cold, lifeless eyes will haunt your nightmares until you need years of therapy, but at least it’s physical. It’s worth it even when you go to the doctor to describe your urinating as a painful electric discharge. Just tell the doctor how awesome the sex with your robot girlfriend is and he or she will totally understand.

But as for the aforementioned Holodeck, it’s only a pipe dream right now. I’m not bitter (yes I am) and have come to accept this (no I haven’t).



Disclaimer: This article is satirical and not to be taken seriously. I do not own a Japanese robot girlfriend but can't help being a little curious.

Ramona is a character from Scott Pilgrim vs. The World. The film is owned by Universal. Demolition Man is owned by Warner Bros.

Follow me on Twitter or contact me at jk47.foc@gmail.com

4 reasons my wife is going to leave me

                               Articles My Wife wont let me publish

                The first one is, four diseases I think are funny.  I think it would have been hilarious. I had multiple Michael J. Fox jokes. I was going to throw in some Jay Cutler Wilford Brimly comparisons (i.e., the beetus).  I had a killer joke about how Native Americans don’t drink alcohol it’s just that 79 percent  of them are born with Cerebral Palsy. Yes, I know, that was both racist and insensitive. Oh well, I’ll live….(unlike some people on that list.) BAM, see the jokes write themselves.

The beetus

 

 

                The next article my wife would prefer that I not write is: “Why I hate Dan Marino.”  I actually wrote this one.  It was a solid 800 words and it had pictures.  I thought it was  great, then I let some people read it. I was told it was nothing but an 800 word death threat.  I didn’t think it was that bad. My buddy is a lawyer; he read 3 lines and stopped and said, “You will be arrested if you publish this.” I will put it this way: Dan Marino, if you’re reading this, it was 1997 December 17^th at the Walgreens in Fort Lauderdale. You know what you did, you fucking washed-out, leather-skinned cocksucker.

Smug sonof a bitch

 

 

                This next one could have been awesome!  I was going to title it “My Sister In-law. The Big Fat Whore.”  Now,  I never actually wrote this one; there was just too much research involved. Trying to find out how many men she had slept with was a job for Steven Hawking; that man has a firm understanding of math and giant holes that suck everything into them.  Towards the end I realized I should have got the  number of men age 19 to 53 who live in Illinois and subtracted 19 percent, to account for gays. The answer is 3,184,000 by the way. When My wife found out what I was writing about, she was pissed. The weird part is I never specifically named any of her three sisters, and she couldn’t tell which sister I was writing about. So, all my wife’s sisters are incredible whores and that’s just too much math.  I would have had to figure out a formula to determine if one male had sex with all of them or just one, or two of them; I mean, that’s just bullshit.

Drunk Sluts

 

  

                With all the talk about rape in the news I thought a good topic would be “ top five rape scenes in movies.” First of all I had no clue how many movies had rape scenes in them, (I’m talking to you the 80’s).  After thinking about it, I just couldn’t stomach watching Jodie Foster get humped on a pinball machine by five rednecks. I gave up on it. I told my wife I needed something to write about and she asked what my last idea was; I told her. I look back at it and realize what a mistake I made. She, without hesitation,  pulled back and man punched me in the face. After I stopped crying she explained how rape is never funny. Later that night after everything had calmed down, I hid in the bathroom with the light off and jumped out and slapped her in the face, and was like “ Was that Funny!”.  Later the police officer explained to me that domestic abuse is not funny. I don’t think I understand funny anymore, she is a cruel mistress.

Not Funny

               

7 Places to See Free Boobs

                                                     

            Who doesn’t love boobs? We have compiled a list of the best places to see free boobs, because lets face it nobody wants to pay a 25 dollar cover charge to see some hag with a caesarean  scar and cigarette burns shake her nasty boobies. So without further ado, I bring you the best place to see free boobies.

                Mardigras. If you like young middle to upper class white boobies, this is where you should be. For the price of some plastic beads, you can make young drunk white girls flash you the boob. This is nothing more than an excuse for these inebriated girls to do what comes naturally; namely, pull their shirts up and scream, “WOOOO, I’m so wasted, Mardigras, WOOOHOOO.” It’s important that the individual scream the name of the event they are at when said girl flashes her boobage.

                My Tenth Birthday.  Believe me you would have seen some boobs.  After my mom has about 5 sambucca and cokes, she likes to show everyone how “free spirited” she is.  I will never forget it.  As soon as I blew out my candles wishing for a new nerf gun, my mother pulled up her shirt and screamed “WOOOO, I’m so wasted.. My Baby’s Birthday, WOOHOOO MOTHERFUCKERS!”  Fourth grade was tough. 

    

                The Office X-mas party.  Oh hell ya! There gunna be some boobies!  Every office has at least one girl that will drink too much,  flash her boobies, make out with some random dude, and puke. Not always in that order; but, for the guy being kissed, it’s preferred. If you are lucky your office will have more than one of these girls. It’s natural for them to engage in a competition of how many times they flash their boobies. All night at the party you will hear “WOOOOO, I’m so wasted, MERRY CHRISTMAS, WOOOHOOO!” in the back ground. It truly is a Christmas miracle.

                Sturgis, South Dakota.  Every year in South Dakota, massive numbers of middle-aged people gather.  Not, as you might think, to see Mount Rushmore; instead, they ride their motorcycles around and get drunk, fight, and flash some titties. Be forewarned, these are not your nice Mardigras boobies. They are giant, fake, scary boobs. The formula is simple: no beads or dollar bills needed. All you have to do is scream, “HEY YOU, SHOW ME YOUR TITS!” and by some big fake titty magic they appear.

                Cancun, Mexico.  Always!  You will always see boobs in Cancun.  I once heard a girl scream “WOOO, IM SO WASTED. FLAG DAY!  WOOOHOOOOO!”

                Lynard Skynard Concert. All Skynard concerts, but also, every Kid Rock and Jimmy Buffet show, and others of their ilk. Once again you are warned. You go to a Skynard or Buffet concert you will see boobs, but they are sad boobies: old, fat, blue, veiny boobies. These chicks drink so much they forget that they are 53 year old substitute teachers. They smoke so much pot that they are whisked away to a time when they were much younger, hotter, and tighter. I have seen a 240 lb women manage to pull her tight tank top over three levels of rolls, only to have her floppy sad boobs slide down to her belt buckle  as she screams, “WOOO, I’M WASTED.  BUFFET! WOOOHOOO!”.    

                Spring Break.  Then there is always Spring Break motherfuckers. Spring break.