Jungle
Out on safari, without warning they ran into ...
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WITTY
The most witty thing I wrote today is:
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Lumberjack
Compare yourself to a lumberjack.
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Out on safari, without warning they ran into two giant giraffes. They looked real, but they were giant plastic giraffes.
"All the way out in the fucking jungle and they gotta have fiberglass giraffes." Winston spent too much time being angry about things that don't matter.
"Well, it's just the greeting area. I'm sure the real safari will be better."
I expected we'd be chasing big game; instead, Winston and I found ourselves being hunted.
I know.
You've already read that story someplace.
You already have studied the turn-about story in your college literature class.
But the thing they were after wasn't my body. They didn't want to roast Winston and me in a pot. They had no interest in gunning us down for sport.
They wanted our souls.
They wanted our time.
They wanted our morality.
They'd built the jungle scene out of ones and zeros in a miraculous display of 3D computer technology. We thought we'd come to chase digital lions, tigers and bears.
Instead they escorted us to a big hot tub filled with naked people all sharing stories from their real lives. Soon, they'd shot an arrow of curiosity directly into my brain and I couldn't leave. With each passing hour I learned the levels one could achieve. I studied the software add-ons. I purchased the required arsenal of erotic paraphernalia.
Yes they hosted orgies.
Yes they celebrated nudity.
Yes they asked DJ's to come and play music from bands I'd forgotten sometime around eleventh grade.
The safari led us into the dark places of my mind where I didn't intend to venture. Into worlds filled with far-away lovers. Filled with liaisons I'd never consider in real life. Yet there we ventured. The fiberglass giraffes, it turned out, were lovingly scripted to move about the property, keep an eye on all the most exotic love-making areas, and of course, one could ride them around with a rather comical animation yelling "yeeeeee haaaawwww!"
I barely knew Winston.
Some guy, supposedly, from Wisconsin. He lost interest when he learned the jungle wasn't about hunting wild animals. He moved on and left me behind and I became the wild animal. Laughing too loudly, being far to brazen with my ideas, hopping onto animation triggers I would never dare to try with somebody I might know for real.
The lure of anonymity and frivolity can never be underrated.
Two giraffes.
One digital life.
I'm sitting in the hot tub right now. A dozen other boys are here and a couple other girls. We're funny and I'm feeling popular. In the real world, I'd be scared, I'd be vain, I'd be a wall flower. Here people think I'm sexy, exotic, interesting, and sometimes I become a different gender or a different species.
Being a wild animal here is an asset.
They've hunted my soul, they're stealing my time, and I've lost my morality ... or at least what was my morality. And all because two giraffes in the jungle seemed so alluring.
Poor Winston.
Out hunting tigers.
When so many here would have loved to hunt him.
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