One time for shits and giggles I decided to make a Grindr account for Steve Ballmer. I posted a headshot of him and made a bunch of OS related sexual innuendo in the description. "I cum in 256 colors." I figured, hey, make some jokes at the expense of weird, lonely queers and call it a day. Because you know who don't exist on Grindr? Virile, handsome dudes with functioning dicks. You know who Grindr markets to? Fifty year olds who divide their time between working middle management and turning the TV on and then staring at the wall next to it while a Cialis ad plays. And let me tell you, the funny shit that drops out of their mouths when they're horny is on par with the shit that falls out of a weeb's mouth when you say, "Stein's Gate is actually like Serial Experiments Lain in a lot of ways if you think about it." What are you judging me for? They took Punk'd off the air.
But I couldn't keep up with the prank. I was bombarded with messages. I was getting five a minute. I couldn't even send the funny ha-ha screenshots back to my cabal of retard friends at the rate they were supplying material. Steve is a sixty three year old bald man with the face of an extinct bird and an army of fat Mexicans were lining up for some daddy dick. I deleted the app and took down the account after I received the courting line of, "If only you were the real Steve..."
Catfishing men as Steve Ballmer has left me a changed man. Occasionally I tap into these underground networks of desperate middle agers and their world is completely alien to me. Like when Craigslist still had fuck listings and I still lived in Washington state I figured one day that maybe pussy was waiting for me on the opposite side of bad spelling and 400x400 pictures of cleavage. The only thing on the opposite side were the forty to sixty demographic looking for young men to bang their Filipino green card wives. And the shit they say, oh my God the shit they say.
You don't even need to see the train they got on to get to a Grindr account or a Craigslist cuckpost, you can see the train tracks. This is why I stopped watching porn. At some point you have to realize that you're developing a fetish, and no matter how many San Fran poop eating festivals happen, fetishes will always look strange to people with souls, and I don't want a secret life that can be glimpsed into like that.
One day walking in Seattle I found some graffiti that read, in simple text, "Cum is the new poop." I thought, holy shit he's right.
