Saturday, October 10, 2009

HD stinks. Sometimes.

Since my ADSL connection was upgraded to 2.5Gb/s, I've been downloading more and more content in HD. Most of it looks pretty awesome, but there's one area that seems to suffer from this evolution in home video technology. When Blu-ray and HD-DVD (may its soul rest in peace) were introduced a couple of years ago, there was an outrage in the pornography industry. At the time it seemed pretty silly to me, but now that I've had several experiences with high definition pornography I'm sorry to say that the fear was completely justified. Disregarding realistic amateur content (among other sick stuff I have absolutely no interest in), the porn industry is all about selling fantasy to the homely masses. It's all about highly attractive people, engaging in highly attractive sexual acts. And HD ruins it all. See, the one thing we don't want to know is that porn actresses are real people. Because real people are made of flesh and skin and bones. They have skin imperfections. Pimples. Rashes. Scars. Infected wounds. Moles. Indentations from leaning on the wrong thing. Unsightly hair, as well as stubble in awkward places. Acne scars. Evidence of piercing gone wrong. Stretch marks. Teeth that aren't all that perfect. Under-eye bags. The list goes on and on. In standard definition video you can't really see most of these problems, and in high resolution still photos they can all be easily fixed, but HD always gives you the truth, the kind you can't even cover with makeup. And what's the point of watching someone having sex on your screen if they're just as human, just as flawed as you are? The image below is a full resolution partial capture from a 720p source. One can only imagine what it must look like in full HD, which is twice as detailed. I think I'm going to lay off HD porn for the time being. I'd like my favourite porn chicks to remain the goddesses that they are, at least in my mind. Virtually no one is as dear to me as they are, and I'd like to keep it that way. Why is that, you ask? Stay tuned after this extremely sexy image to read an example of why I've given up on living, breathing human females a long time ago.

An incredibly hot chick's left ass cheek

There's this farmers' market by the beach here that I like to go to, but I haven't been there in over three months. Yesterday we went and bought a bunch of stuff, like persimmons and figs and purple carrots and a pitaya. The two things I like most about the market is the beer stand and the hummus stand. The beer comes from a little local brewery and is very good and makes me sort of happy, at least for a short while, and the hummus comes from a little organic restaurant, and it's literally the best hummus I have ever had inside my mouth. So I'm at the hummus stand, asking for a "large" container of hummus from the adorable little chickiepoo who sells it. I've seen her there maybe two or three times before, but those were all over three months ago. I remember that the last time I was there she had offered me a taste of the hummus on a little piece of pitta, but I declined the offer (because her job entails handling money, which is filthy, which means her fingers are usually pretty dirty too), which I immediately regretted, because how often do I get to eat something touched by such a pretty, cool-looking young woman? So yesterday she's getting some hummus into the container (I couldn't help noticing how she placed her finger inside the container before filling it, which was both thrilling and disgusting) when suddenly she asks me a question. The question was, do I reheat the hummus at home (they serve it warm, fresh from the pot). My first response was, no, I'm eating it right here, by the water. As I felt that this statement made me sound both fat and lonely, I immediately corrected myself and said that "*we're* eating it here". This was obviously a total lie, and I'm pretty sure it made me seem even sadder. Then I asked, why, is there a problem with reheating it at home? To which she replied, no, there isn't, I've just noticed how you've been buying here hummus regularly and wondered what you do with it, because a lot of people think you can't reheat it at home. Then I took a couple of plastic forks (when all I really needed was one) and left. This very brief encounter has charged me up for quite a long time. I know that having the appearance of a connection with you customer is the basis of good salesmanship and that it didn't mean anything, but I couldn't get over the fact that I had had something that was sort of like a conversation with an attractive young female, who has actually noticed and remembered me, which for me is a pretty incredible scenario. I wish I could have said something cool like "hey baby, could you please tell me your name, so that later when I'm thinking about you while I'm masturbating in my single bed I'll know what to mumble happily?" On the other hand, I'm pretty grateful that I can't actually say stuff like that out loud to another person. So given my basic lack of social skills when it comes to people of the female persuasion, anyone can clearly see that getting an actual girlfriend, the kind you can take out to a movie and touch and fight with, is just not something I'm capable of. Anyway. Here's to you, cute hummus girl. In my stupid little world, you definitely get this week's "Gawd I Wanted to Bang Her" award.


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