I can get you a 30% discount on a fake booty! But only if you act now!
Synthetic reality is headed your way and we know you want it
Every time I log onto my social media accounts these days, I find myself asking: where did the real world get off to? What is up with all this selling of synthetic reality?
You know. Infomercials, YouTube, Instagram, webinars, meetups… All pimping some version of the endless summer of extreme wealth and self-satisfaction. At a tropical mansion or over-the-top-hotel suite. With a couple of models walking around in the background, randomly. As they tend to do.
Bling, wigs, mansions, “Lambos”, puffy fur coats, every designer brand name imaginable (and some that are made up, I suspect) flung in your face 24 hours a day as soon as you visit any social account. Wait until they figure out how to have a hologram of champagne bottles dancing above the black screen every time a sensor picks up on you even approaching your phone…
Yes, they have the secret formula that will enable you to reap overnight millions while you sleep, perform marketing miracles, float from hotel to hotel like an international gangster on the run or get a huge fake booty.
But what if I like my current car just fine? And kind of like living a slightly more stable life or what if I don’t actually want a big fake booty? Doesn’t matter. They are going to hide the little “x” box in the pop-up ad so you can’t get rid of it immediately, just so you have time to reconsider their generous offer.
Because they take it as the greatest foregone conclusion that if you are a human being on the Internet, these things must be precisely the height of all your worldly ambitions. And you need them to get it. Fast. Because, what else could there be?
Plastic fantastic abounds as far as the eye can see. With the promise of every material gain you never even wished for. All-day. Every channel.
How did we get here? Who decided this? And, for that matter, who even wants to be with the kind of man who gets hot and bothered over a fake booty?
And why are there never infomercials touting chocolates filled with red wine as the answer to all your troubles? Or hooded flannel bathrobes? A magical bottle of sleep? Something you can spray on your property line to make a particular neighbor move? Or a book telling you how to outsmart your cat? (You can bet I would race the cheesy countdown clock to get my credit card out for that last little gem.)
Those are the kinds of offerings that reflect the reality I know. I can’t for the life of me picture myself in the back of a limo sandwiched between two half-naked call girls holding champagne glasses -the image some guru on Instagram tried to tempt me with yesterday. For just 800 dollars of his tutelage, he promised I too would reach this synthetic nirvana. In less than 30 days. Or my money back!
Dude, naw. I can pop a bottle right here in my kitchen now and again, in the peace and privacy of my own humble abode. With people who wear clothes and don´t require payment to hang around. Go pimp your synthetic wares on somebody else’s phone. Please!
Oh. I was ranting, wasn’t I? I got distracted. Forgot about the big discount fake booty I promised you.
Okay, okay. I have to admit that I don’t really have my own supply of them to offer. But fear not! I know exactly where you can find one.