ok, my fff was weak

so i feel like i can't let too much time pass with it being my last post, although i hope my argonaut booty helps balance it out...
the first time i saw the ad that says, "this is the face of erectile dysfunction" while showing a close-up of some dude's face, all i could think was how tragic it must be to be the face of erectile dysfunction, and whether he knew in advance and the $ was just that good, or if they didn't warn this dude they'd slate him like that and he was none the wiser until people started pointing and whispering (or laughing out loud) on the street. but the other day i saw a new ad warning people about online predators targeting the underaged. now i guess raising awareness is good, but they actually had a dude playing the child molestor, saying things along the lines of, "it's all about getting the pretty young things to meet me in person"...now we know there is indeed something worse than being "the face of erectile dysfunction"...

one of the actors in the children's hour with me is a very pretty chick named abby. i mention this because when we met she said we'd met before, when i let her use my bathroom- about 5years ago, a coupla weeks before i met grims, she+i were both in line to sign up for league auditions (especially if you're non-equity, this is like lining up outside the ins for a greencard, or outside the cinema for star wars/trek tickets- without the costumes- retardedly early, just to get a number to come back later for the thing itself). i was homeless for a month between vacating one apartment and waiting for somebody else to vacate my next, and was crashing by a friend whose house was right around the corner. because we get in line so fucking early for this, nothing else is open- not the theatre itself, or even sparky's espresso cafe- and this cute chick had to go, so of course, i volunteered to take those who had to pee back to the house to do so, if somebody would hold our place in line. i tell this story just because when she reminded me of it, my only thought was, "wow, evidence of me actually being a nice person, and evidence that that shit really works and people remember!"
i might be a little inspired to start being nice.
at least to attractive girls.

i'm rethinking my views on cosmetic surgery. this is still a half-formed thought, but, what else is a blog for, right?
i'm thinking that maybe cosmetic surgery is a sick+twisted version of survival of the fittest- stay with me- the basic principle is that the traits in an organism that best enhance the survival of the species usually ensure the survival of the members of said species that carry it, thus allowing them to reproduce and pass on those successful traits to their offspring (naturally, those with the less helpful traits don't get far enough to reproduce and pass them on, so the lame shit is gradually weeded out of the genepool and the good stuff becomes more ubiquitous within the species, and survival ensues, of both trait and species). this includes traits that make a member of the species more attractive to its opposite sex, making it easier for this more attractive organism to find a mate (or several) and reproduce as much as its loins allow, thus passing on this particularly attractive feature (example seen in birdsong- males with the best songs get the chicks, and their babies learn their father's songs).
so if this is the case, then it seems that the desire to do whatever it takes to make oneself more attractive to the opposite sex would have to be a part of that survival-of-the-fittest instinct. perhaps gone slightly awry, but survival of the fittest nonetheless. i mean, bigger boobs and dicks, smaller noses and wrinkles, more hair up there and less elsewhere- it's all about being more attractive, which, on an instinctual level, is about survival of our species.
but we have sex for pleasure, and we have birth control. so now i'm thinking, maybe what i should devote my life to (outside of art) is ensuring that the cosmetically enhanced are all sterilised (unless we want our species to end up made of nothing but silicone as the desire to add it gets passed down to future generations). but then the problem is: if i don't wanna be a hypocrite, does this line of thinking mean i have to get off the pill or get a boob job?
maybe it'd be best if we just didn't survive...
walk good.