A Lecture On Achieving Success With Internet Video From a Man Who Has Sex With Food.
BY BOB POWERS
You’d think that people wouldn’t be particular about the dish but you’d be sorely mistaken.
For example, I once spent two weeks having sex with every dish on the prix fixe tasting menu at Per Se. Eight videos, 43 minutes of combined running time. Total views for the series: 972,000.
The next week I had sex with a bowl of Annie’s Mac & Cheese. One video. 3 minutes and twelve seconds running time. Total views: 3.2 million and counting.
A $275 tasting menu from a four-star restaurant versus a buck forty-nine bowl of cheese powder and pasta.
How to explain it?
Were my viewers chastising me for getting too high-falutin’ on them? Were they telling me I was trying to fornicate with food above my station? A few of the comments seemed to say so:
“We log onto your channel to watch you fuck food, not put on airs.”
“Quit giving us the high-hat.”
“Pull your dick outta that citrus-cured Australian Kampachi and stuff it into some baked beans already.”
But they were the vocal minority. Most of the comments seemed only to say, “Not feeling this one.”
The comments on the mac and cheese, however, were far more revelatory.
“Watching the cheese drip off the corona of his penis reminds me of rainy nights in grad school when I didn’t have time to make anything else. So good!”
“My mom used to make me the best mac and cheese. Loved peeling the macaroni off the side of the bowl the way you peeled it off the rugged folds of your scrotum. I want seconds.”
“Yeah fuck that mac and cheese. Stir it around until there ain’t no more powder nowhere. Yeah. Always acting all innocent and shit, but you just know every bowl is begging for that hard dick.”
You just know every bowl is begging for that hard dick.
You just know.
How do you know? It’s not from my video. The mac and cheese yields to the penetration of my penis no better than a bowl of Tsar Imperial Osetra Caviar. But with the mac and cheese, you just know.
It’s because the mac and cheese is the familiar. It’s been in their lives, in their bodies, they know it and they have already ascribed meaning and character to it long before I ever ejaculated into it.
When they see my erect penis moving in and among the Annie’s Mac & Cheese, they remember the Annie’s Mac & Cheese on their tongues, they see it sloshing inside my foreskin the way it slides down their esophagus, warming their bellies the way they knew it was warming the underside of my shaft, the cheese getting caught in my pubic hair the way it got stuck between their teeth, giving them a taste of their meal for hours and hours to come. It is familiar and it’s given them comfort and I am sexually defiling it the way they’ve always wanted to but never thought sanitary.
The internet can bring you the world, but people on the internet aren’t searching for the world. They’re searching for themselves. They want to see their own existence reflected, their own experiences validated, and if they’re going to watch you sexually penetrate a plate of food until you climax, they want it to be food they’ve already eaten.
You’re thinking, “OK, that all makes sense if I want to have sex with food on the Internet, but what about my videos?”
These lessons aren’t about how to make a thriving hardcore human-on-food porn channel. Hey, I don’t need the competition! They’re about drawing an audience on the Internet, no matter what your genre. If you’re having sex with shirts, don’t wait too long before you get to the Izod. If you’re having sex with office supplies, people wanna see a stapler up the butt before they want to watch you come all over a two-ring ledger binder that only accounts receivable uses. If you’re having sex with action figures, don’t waste a lot of bandwidth on weird, award-winning Japanese anime. Have sex with Han Solo, have sex with Plastic Man, have sex with that one rubbery Hulk doll that was filled with green goo from when we were kids. These are the action figures that people know. They’ve played with them, they’ve talked to them, and if they haven’t had sex with them themselves, they’re more than happy to watch you do it for them.
Joe Sixpack sitting at home after a long day’s work isn’t powering up his laptop thinking, “I wanna expand my horizons and discover new things.” He’s thinking, “Fuck my life.” Literally. Fuck… my life. I want to see you take my existence and make love to it. Show me that the way I live is right. It’s desirable. Show me that my life gets you hard, that it makes you wet, that you want to take my frame of reference and fuck it messy.
That’s what your viewer wants from you. Take his life, fuck it messy. It’s up to you to pull down your pants, power up the camera, and start raking in the views.
SUGGESTED READSThis Week’s School Lunches
by Peter Bebergal (2/28/2000)
Come Join Our Prayer Group-Slash-Cheese Tasting-Slash-Orgy
by Jon Methven (9/22/2010)
Alternate Names for Ruth’s Chris Steak House
by Colleen Werthmann (3/22/2000)
RECENTLYEight Excuses I Have Told My Son to Use for His Failure to Hand in English Homework, Excuses I Have Learned are Acceptable During a Thirty-Year Career in Journalism, Books, and Film
by Nick Hornby (2/5/2016)
Fear, Inc: Part Two: Alarmed and Dangerous
by Susan Schorn (2/5/2016)
Women Who Should Be Pretty Pissed Off: Frankenstein’s Stepsister
by Amy Watkin (2/5/2016)