Nerd Porn Humor – Really, Player One?

Really, Player One? When it comes to judging the quality of poetry, quality is in the eye of the beholder. Still, there are certain judgments we can make, like the work of W.B. Yeats is better than that of John Bon Jovi (sorry passionate JBJ fans of New Jersey), or Walt Whitman had better facial hair than Langston Hughes.

What of the erotic stylings of “Nerd Porn Auteur” an old poem composed by “Ready Player One” author Ernest Cline? Where does his ode to the perfect porn performers of his mind’s eye fit into the larger cannon of American poetry? Perhaps more to the point, does a well-known Star Wars reference really constitute a mastery of sci-fi nerd-trivia? Read all about it in Calico’s latest post “Really, Player One? …

by Calico Rudasill, Sssh.com Porn For Women

When it comes to assessing the quality of poetry, I suppose it’s always a subjective endeavor.

Some of us find Walt Whitman brilliant, others among us would rather drink bleach than hear the phrase “O Captain! my Captain!” ever again. (To be fair to Mr. Whitman, I think this likely has more to do with overexposure to certain scenes from Dead Poets Society than overexposure to the original poem.)

Some people think it’s great Bob Dylan has won both a Pulitzer and a Nobel prize, others think whether or not his lyrics are great, his voice sounds like a duck with a nasal infection who is actively being run over by a bicycle.

And when it comes to the poem “Nerd Porn Auteur,” an old gem from Ready Player One author Ernest Cline, some of us are stuck between wanting to pat Cline on his nerdly head and wanting to kick him in his nerdly ass.

“Other Than The Stuff I Like, Porn Is Bad,” The Nerd Version

Published in a 2013 collection called (get ready to groan, all you pun haters!) The Importance of Being Ernest, “Nerd Porn Auteur” reads to me like someone trying very hard to establish both his nerd cred and his opposition to a certain brand of misogyny – albeit arguably merely in favor of a different brand of misogyny.

“Adult films are populated with these collagen-injected liposuctioned women Many of whom have resorted to surgery and self-mutilation in an attempt to look the way they have been told to look. These aren’t real women. They’re objects.”

Well, that’s certainly the painfully cliché view on porn performers.

Have you ever met any of “collagen-injected liposuctioned women” Ernest? I’m guessing the answer is no – or was no at the time you wrote this poem, at least. Because if you had, you may well have concluded that acting like a bimbo on screen is one thing, while being a bimbo in real life is an entirely different thing.

Don’t fret though, lady porn performers: You can still score points with Ernie – if you can fit through the magic gateway into his nerd kingdom, that is.

“Guys need porn,” Cline writes. “But I don’t wanna watch this misogynist he-man woman-hater porn.

I want porno movies that are made with guys like me in mind: Guys who know that the sexiest thing in the world is a woman who is smarter than you are. You can have the whole cheerleading squad.

I want the girl in the tweed skirt and the horn-rimmed glasses: Betty Finnebowski, the valedictorian. Oh yes.”

Ah, I see – I’d forgotten that smart girls necessarily wear tweed skirts and horn-rimmed glasses and get the highest grades in their class. Silly me!

Aside from glasses and tweed, what else is Ernest looking for in a porn performer, you may ask?

“If you’re an intelligent woman is interested in breaking into the adult film industry, and if you can tell me the name of Luke Skywalker’s home planet, then you are hired.”

Really? Even if I have fake boobs and collagen injected into my lips? How very generous of you.

And, Speaking Of Nerd Cred….

Admittedly, in making this observation, I’m engaging in the same nerd gateway-behavior for which I earlier criticized Cline, but I’m going to do it, anyway. Where I come from (or maybe more accurately, when I come from) a Star Wars reference is to sci-fi nerds as a Bach reference is to classical music aficionados: It shows a casual familiarity with the form, but it suggests no real depth on the subject.

If someone wants me to be impressed with their sci-fi nerd-cred, forget about Luke Skywalker’s home planet: You’d best at least know which city had Salvor Hardin as its first mayor, or which author came up with the term “robotics” – or I’m just never going to cast you in the lead for my (as yet non-existent) Ballroom of the Skies porn parody….