Nick D’Aloisio.

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Adria Richards, calling attention to herself

This article is posted at Street Carnage.

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Gwynplaine

An essay about The Man Who Laughs, as performed by Stolen Chair Productions.

***

The Man Who Laughs is my favorite book, and its author, Victor Hugo, is my favorite person. You’ll find out why later on in this essay, but let’s suffice it to say for now that Cock Rock wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for the mutation in the meme pool that is The Man Who Laughs. Well, maybe it would still exist, but it would be indistinguishable from your typical bro website. Plus, I probably would have given up after a few months after I realized writing is a bad mating strategy.

So when I found out there was an off, off Broadway production of The Man Who Laughs, I went online and ordered the tickets before I even knew what I was doing. When you’re excited to do something, you do it as if you’re a machine made specifically to do that thing. This is why having sex for the first time is more natural than you would think.

I bought two tickets because I wanted to take a girl I was seeing. But then, because I wanted my experience of the play to be free from extraneous concerns, I canceled on my date the day before. I was afraid she would say something retarded afterwards, which wouldn’t ruin the play for me, but it wouldn’t help.

I’m telling you all this because, in order to understand my thoughts on this play, you have to understand how seriously I take this story about the importance of being serious.

As I took my seat, I began talking to the guy next to me. “So why are you here? Is The Man Who Laughs your favorite book, too?”

“I’ve never read the book,” he replied. “I just read a review in The New York Times that said it was really funny.”

A positive review is good, I thought. Except the book is about as funny as an abortion. This was my first hint that what I was about to see was an abortion.

In the original story, Gwynplaine, the hero, is a young man who lives with his father, Ursus, and his girlfriend, Dea. When Gwynplaine was a young boy, a band of criminals carved a permanent smile into his face to turn him into a sideshow clown. As a result, Gwynplaine’s mien is horrific yet comical, causing a full belly laugh in all who see him. The trio travels around performing plays, capitalizing on the mangled face of Gwynplaine. Think of them like those subway breakdancers. The story takes place in the 17th Century England, so they probably smelled just as bad.

One evening after a performance, Gwynplaine receives a note from a beautiful Duchess. The Duchess, the letter reveals, is in love with Gwynplaine, not for the best in Gwynplaine—his character—but for the worst—his permanent rictus. Concurrently, Gwynplaine discovers he’s actually of noble birth, and so is returned to his rightful position as an English Peer. Through a drama only Hugo could concoct, Gwynplaine renounces the false love of the Duchess, he renounces the false family of the peerage, and he rejoins Dea to pass on into the next realm, a psychologically higher plane of existence.

With the cards stacked against him, and with a sliver of integrity, as fragile as it is fundamental, Gwynplaine remains resolute against a world out to control him. In doing so, he demonstrates once and for all that his life is not the joke he sees on his face.

In the play, the story’s essentially the same as the book up until Gwynplaine receives the note from the Duchess. Instead of renouncing the vile love of the Duchess, however, Gwynplaine, overcome with rage, accidentally chokes the Duchess to death. Then, chased back to his home, he gets in a knife fight with an English Peer and accidentally kills Dea. I think he kills Ursus, too. My mind was skipping beats by this point, so recollection is fuzzy.

The values of Gwynplaine and the story are not only unrepresented, but inverted  A man of self-determination becomes controlled by forces beyond his control. A story of originality becomes laughably banal. Optimism becomes pessimism. Love becomes a triviality. Gwynplaine’s life, it turns out, is indeed the joke he sees on his face.

I couldn’t believe it. Afterwards, I moped around the city for a while. I walked by the statue of Atlas at Rockefeller Center, because his sweet calves usually cheer me up, but not that day.

When I got home, I contacted the playwright, Kiran Rikhye, to do an interview with her for The Brazen Heads. At first she agreed on unstated terms, but then she later declined when I told her the interview would be more confrontation than discussion. Interestingly though, she didn’t decline because she didn’t want to discuss the themes and values of the book, but because she wouldn’t know how. Her fascination with the story never made it past its “visceral horror,” to use my words.

To use her own words, Ms. Rikhye says:

The truth is that I read the novel once and only once, nearly ten years ago, and I was reading it, not as a reader getting immersed in the story, but as someone who had latched on to the premise, seen the 1928 silent film, and was dashing through the novel the way one would cram for a test. My memory of its subtleties is, therefore, pretty shaky.

She then justified her interpretation of the story:

Whenever people ask me about the Hugo connection to the play, I try to be as clear as possible that this really is just using the Hugo as inspiration, and that we’re certainly not trying to be true to all aspects of the book.

I understand using an author only as inspiration. It’s healthy for artists to do their own thing, jettisoning the tradition of artists past. But what Ms. Rikhye misunderstands is even though she found some aspects of The Man Who Laughs fascinating, she is no more inspired by Hugo than Predator is inspired by the Gatling gun. Hugo was the first author, and arguably the last, to portray characters not as beasts, but as men. Greek characters were ruled by the fates. Shakespearean characters the same. Dante was cast into an unknowable world. Gulliver the same. Tolstoy and Hemingway were glorified journalists. And even Dostoevsky, a man worthy of respect as a writer as well as a psychologist, was too infected by the cold and culture of Czarist Russia to see man for what he is. So it is Flaubert, not Hugo, who is Ms. Rikhye’s inspiration.

The play, it turns out, wasn’t an abortion. It was a miscarriage. Even if Ms. Rikhye wanted to carry the magnificence of Hugo to full term, she doesn’t have the intellectual foundation to do such a thing. Not because she’s dumb, but because it doesn’t matter. Ms. Rikhye is beholden only to audiences and critics who would rather smirk their mouths than furrow their brows.

I’m neither old nor cranky enough to extrapolate this aimless production of The Man Who Laughs into a condemnation of American culture. I don’t think that would be true, anyway. Sometimes it’s simply too easy to get wrapped up in the acting, lighting, makeup, music, and costumes, and so forget why we even have stories in the first place.

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Lena Dunham and Girls (30:00).

Joaquin Phoenix and I’m Still Here (1:00:00).

thebrazenheadspodcast[at]gmail.com

Faust

Three lessons we can learn from a Cock Rock contributor’s girl problem.

***

I’d like to first thank Jared Freid for writing this Brotips translation for Cock Rock (which is required reading for this article). Jared’s a funny guy and he knows how to string a few words together. But, in regards to girls, he seems a little confused.

Specifically, Jared’s making three mistakes with the girl he’s “Frenching.” It’s a Cock Rock rule that if there absolutely must be a dry dick out there, we must not let it go to waste. That sounds gay, but you know what I mean. So, for the rest of us, here are three lessons that complement Jared’s three mistakes.

Lesson one: What a girl gets upset about is rarely what she’s upset about.

I’m willing to bet that this girl isn’t upset Jared didn’t use an exclamation mark in his text—she’s just trying to feel out where Jared is in the relationship. “How serious is he?” she must be wondering. This is a good thing, Jared. If a girl’s fighting with you over a meaningless text, then she’s trying to get deeper in the relationship. This sounds lame except “deeper in relationship” translates to “penis deeper in vagina.” Therefore, when a girl gets angry at you over something stupid, you say, “oh, I didn’t know you liked me that much.”

Lesson two: Girls need you to to make sex happen.

It’s normal to abstain from sex the first time a girl’s in your bed. In fact, I would advise against first-bed sex unless she’s literally begging for your penis. Plus, if a girl’s begging for your penis, you’ve got bigger problems, like: how are you going to not fall in love with her?

But it is standard procedure to have sex with a girl the second time she’s in your bed. If not, then you’re not doing your job. In this day of birth control and condoms and the exaggeration of STDs by the Religious Right, it’s unacceptable to wait any longer for sex.

Of course, no girl is going to take your cock in her hand and shove it in her vagina. Life isn’t a porno. And girls will even reject your sexual advances in bed—not because they don’t want to have sex, but because they don’t want to feel like a slut. (Caveat: maybe this girl is only using Jared for validation and to make other guys jealous, in which case you must disconnect as if your masculinity depends on it.)

Though my mother cries whenever I say this, pussy doesn’t come to men who are too afraid to push things forward. It comes to men who are persistent (with a little bit of game). She’s supposed to stop you from taking off her panties. That’s her job; expect it. So when she does stop you, simply go back to whatever foreplay stage you were at before and get her a little more turned on before proceeding. This is, in truth, how you get your boner “OFF her back and IN somewhere else.”^1 It’s also how you get slapped, but oh well.

If texting smiley faces got the job done, then guys who spend all day with their nose in an iPhone would be getting laid, and they don’t, otherwise they wouldn’t spend all day with their nose in an iPhone.

Lesson three: Only friend a girl on Facebook if you want to be her friend.

There’s no good that can come from friending a girl on Facebook. It may not hurt, but if it doesn’t move the plot forward, then don’t do it. It’s no coincidence Facebook was developed by a virgin.

Conclusion

I don’t mean to pick on Jared. He seems to mostly have his act together. Plus, he’s a good writer, which is why I want his words on my website, a feat much more commendable than banging chicks. But I feel a responsibility to my readers to get them the best information possible. And if even one reader leaves Cock Rock thinking it’s okay to let a girl use you for cuddling, then he’s getting the worst information possible.

1. I had a lesbian roommate who described her process for breaking in straight girls this way: “two steps forward, one step back.” Which reminds me: if you don’t have a lesbian friend, go make one.

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(Why this translation exists)

I recently got into an argument with a girl I’ve been Frenching (I call it “Frenching” to give the relationship more class and sophistication than “some girl I dry hump enough to hate the zipper on my jeans”). It was her birthday and I sent a plain and simple “Happy Birthday” text as soon as I woke up. Is there a guy out there who can see where I went wrong? Does anyone reading this right now know the one thing about that text that redirected this relationship from BJ-ville on a detour towards Over-The-Shirt-Boob-Touching Island? I’ll give you one more minute to scan that text like a “Where’s Waldo” book. Here it is: we had an actual argument over the fact that the text didn’t have an exclamation point. I’ll give every dude reading this a second to stop rolling their eyes like one of those wall mounted cat clocks. I’ll also give all of the ladies reading this a second to uncross their arms and stop nodding in total agreement. And now that we are all back to normal, the question becomes: is she right?

Yes, “bitches love smiley faces” is the tip I’m looking to discuss but it points to the much larger importance of texting in dating. The game has changed. There was a time where you got a girl’s number at a bar and put it in something called “a little black book” and then called her at home to make a date. To repeat: YOU CALLED HER AT HOME! Calling a landline for sexual purposes feels so out of date that I wouldn’t be surprised if a Velociraptor picked up the phone. Think about how different the process has become. Now, you meet a girl at a bar, you take her cell phone number, become Facebook friends, text the rest of the night, check out enough Facebook pictures that you’re on a first name basis with her Mom and Dad, text the rest of the week, then finally go on a first date. People wonder why things move faster than they used to, well you’ve had more contact in one week than people in the “black book days” had in one month. I think it’s pretty normal to push the sexual boundaries when you don’t have to spend half of your time waiting by the answering machine. The fact is, texting is as much a part of dating as the actual date. Guys can no longer lean on the “Bitches be crazy” defense when a girl calls them out on a text.

So should I have had the exclamation point? My initial argument was that the words “Happy Birthday” when said together are always said in an excited way. I’ve never gotten wished a Happy Birthday and thought “That guy doesn’t give a crap about my birthday.” Then I remembered her answer. A passive-aggressive “Thnx.” When I got back that “Thnx” from a girl who I’d been cuddling so much that my boner left a permanent imprint in her back, I knew something was up. No continuing the conversation. No smiley face. Just the plain and simple “Thnx” tipped me off that an argument was coming and—right now—to the fact that she had a point. As guys, we have to do a little bit more. We have to dress up these texts and give them the tone they deserve because we are looking for the same things as girls. We are looking for the “KK” response to a plan for a date because we know that second “K” shows some excitement (a third “K” conveys racism). We are looking for the “See you soon ” text because that smiley face says “I tickle balls” (guys are eternally hopeful). We see the tone so we have to give that tone back. But how much?

Yes, “Bitches love smiley faces” but what they really like is a little bit of effort. They love the random smiley face after a night out together but they get a little weirded out when you start sending them pictograms explaining how your lunch tasted. You have to be a man about these emoticons. Overusing the smiley face is like going to a party and immediately becoming best friends with someone’s mom. Everyone will think you’re a really nice guy but still wonder why you’re putting in THAT much effort. Do you need the mom on your side? Are you just a “Mom guy?” Are you into show tunes, Madonna, and penis? Do you have six boy scouts tied up in your basement? Emoticons are feminine and you have to use them like a guy should use any feminine product; sparingly. If you enjoy the smell of a women’s shampoo then you’re still a dude but if that extends to perfume then we go back to that question about you and penis. Just know it’s all about tone. You need to show some but you need to keep your manhood. It’s a new day, and if you want to get your boner OFF her back and IN somewhere else, then add an exclamation point every now and again…!

Jared Freid is a New York City-based comedian who you can see on MTV’s Failosophy on Thursdays at 10:30pm. Follow him on Twitter for videos, columns, and suggestions for great smelling women’s shampoo. You can also subscribe to his Facebook page here.

***

In the spirit of the Academy Awards, below is a list of the best Cock Rock articles for each category. And in the spirit of the red carpet, I’m wearing a piece from the Old Navy tattered collection.

Enjoy.

Psychology: The Bum Rape Fallacy

Chauvinism: It’s Okay to Have a Penis

Cultural Critique: An Open Letter to The Chive

Philosophy: What a Revolution Looks Like

Relationships: What Men Need for Christmas

Irreverence: Heaven is Hell

Concision: Free Van Jones

Cultural Politics: The Medicinal Benefits of Assault Rifles

Essay: The Golden Gate Bridge, Reese Witherspoon, and Free Will

Mania: Every Girl Wants Me

Love: I Love Girls

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the Academy Awards, the philosophy of acting (30:00).

thebrazenheadspodcast[at]gmail.com