Girls and Dolls

I've always been fascinated by the unbelievable complications of the human brain and all the weird things that people do simply because they're compelled to. I'm not speaking specifically about the mentally ill, but their addled attempts to interact with the world by covering dead squirrels with mustard and putting them in people's mailboxes are always a welcome respite from the humdrum of daily life. I'm talking about the bizarre, ridiculous and creepy ways people, who are otherwise normal, functional members of modern society, seem to express the animalistic feelings, desires and impulses we humans are forced to endure and interpret with our big, modern logic-seeking minds.

We can start small, with a subject I've bored you all with many times in the past. It's to do with the brains primary function gone haywire: pareidolia. This is the brain's attempt to take any and all stimulus and form it into a cohesive image or message, even when none exists. This phenomenon has formed the basis of our inquisitive human nature, but also makes us easily fooled, this why you hear all the stories about the face Jesus appearing on Google Maps or Allah's name showing up on the label for Burger King ice cream. Pareidolia can even be fun:



Is it a duck or a rabbit? The fact is, it's neither, but your brain takes all the appropriate bits it recognizes about both and tries to make a decision, which can't be done.

The brain is an amazingly complex and extremely flawed mechanism, and when all of this raw computing power is filtered through the twists and turns of an enigmatic, counter-intuitive and paradoxical society, well now we're cooking with gas.

Society, fashion, tradition, values, these are all considerations that we take into account when we interpret data, and make decisions for ourselves about the way we live our lives. Of all the impetuses we feel, of all the desires we have in the most carnal and primitive corners of our brains, the desires we feel for sex and procreation are by far the most powerful, the most complicated, and the most ceaselessly frustrating.

There is, perhaps, no better indicator of the extreme nature of these feelings than those individuals that choose to opt out of the whole game. Take, for example, the purchasers of one of the most creep-tastic products available: The Realdoll. The Realdoll is a super-realistic (and pornographically expensive) doll that men purchase for drama-free sexual relief. Think of it as a $6,500 wanking machine.



While the Realdoll may be nothing new to you, let me introduce you something, perhaps, even creepier, The Reborn Baby.



The desire to procreate, and all the inherent nuances, drama, taboos, social stigmas, restraining orders, highest of highs and lowest of lows involved, are by far the most intense we as humans are forced to endure for the past and future success of the species. For some people, this can just be too much to bear, and in classic modern fashion, seek a better and less complicated solution from technology.

Both of these extremely creep-tastic products appeal to the same physical and psychological desperation of their consumers, albeit the disparate male and female versions thereof. It has to do with the anguished expression of those very biological imperatives of sex and procreation, but thanks to technology, now attainable by people who are unwilling or incapable of making the necessary investment or commitment to achieve such things in reality.

It's obviously a gross simplification to chalk it up to "men fuck things, women care for things," but these two products actually make a pretty good case. The point is, we all face desires to do things we're supposed to do, like have sex and care for babies, but like anything that's filtered through the modern human brain, sometimes the messages get mixed up.

As a fan of human nature, these two things appear to me as two side of the same fucked up human coin, latex approximates to serve the deep-seated desires with which we contend, but without all the mess and fuss of actually having to interact or care for another person. It's a classic psychological shield: I make no investment, I won't get hurt. A plastic woman won't tell you that you're not a great lover, or step out with another man and a plastic baby will never grow up, and will never leave you.

However, some manner by which people sidestep their fundamental biological desires are worse than others. Trying my best to not sound misogynistic (a battle I face each and every day) I'd like to try and make the case why women who heap maternal love and affection onto inanimate objects is worse than men who fuck plastic women.

Men fuck things, and not ll of these things are necessarily human women. The desire to jam your penis into anything and everything is a desire with which we men have been forced to battle since time immemorial. It's natural and it's always more of a burden than a joy, but it's part of the package (pun intended.) Women, on the other hand, are much more complex creatures, dealing with many more complex emotions and desires. A man fucking a doll, while discomforting and extremely strange, is just a manifestation of our gender's limitless sexual needs in the rare situation of living alone, and possessing disposable income.

On the other hand, an adult woman who heaps maternal affection and care onto a plastic baby is not just creepy, it's a waste. Even crazy cat ladies are providing care, love and attention to living things that can actually benefit and return that affection. A woman exercising her maternal instincts on a inanimate object is like pouring water down the drain during a drought. The best part of being a human is that our brains are wired to reward us when we do things that are good for us and other people: it feels good to work out, it feels good to eat food, it feels good to make love, and it feels good to help other people. I simply refuse to believe anyone could get as much satisfaction loving a doll, which is vastly different than simply fucking a doll.

I suppose I could try to get some external input on this quite rattled and rambling post. Fucking a doll, or mothering a doll: which is creepier?