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YouTube, j’accuse!

Controversial critic and disgraced blogger Lee Siegel rages against Internet culture and blogofascism.

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YouTube, j'accuse!

In the climactic sequence of “Invasion of the Body Snatchers,” Kevin McCarthy staggers into the road like an Old Testament prophet, waving his arms, shouting dire warnings of pod people. “They’re here!” he roars, as the cars’ headlights arc around him. “You’re next!”

Substitute the figure of culture critic Lee Siegel, and you have a pretty fair picture of “Against the Machine,” a brief but highly charged polemic about the Internet‘s podification of our culture. This isn’t to denigrate Siegel’s argument but to suggest its rhetorical pitch — and to question whether he is the right one to make the argument.

Certainly there’s no questioning his C.V. According to Wikipedia (an institution he despises), Siegel has been book critic for the Nation, art critic for Slate, staff writer for Talk and Harper’s magazines, contributing writer for the Los Angeles Times Book Review, senior editor at the New Republic … on and on he goes, a culture unto himself, weighing in on all things great and small. He has even managed to have an opinion about baseball caps, which — I never knew this — signify “a lazily defiant casualness … a hopelessness about the possibility of originality ever to fly in the face of hierarchy.”

Siegel’s Olympian perch began to sag a little in September 2006 when, stung by anonymous reactions to his New Republic culture blog, he decided to pose as a reader himself under the handle “sprezzatura.” Slamming all his detractors (“immature, abusive sheep”) and dousing the blogmaster with incense (“Siegel is brave, brilliant, and wittier than [Jon] Stewart will ever be … You couldn’t tie Siegel’s shoelaces”), author and sock puppet were quickly sniffed out by other readers. Siegel was suspended, and his blog was cast into the ether.

More grievously for someone of his self-regard, he became, depending on the generosity of your perspective, either a laughingstock or a poignant symbol of high culture sucked into the mire of the low. Siegel himself dismissed the episode as a mere “prank.” Given more time, he has recast it as a fortunate fall. “In good American fashion,” he writes now, it earned him a Deborah Solomon interview in the New York Times Magazine (how many culture critics get that?) and “the opportunity to write the book on Web culture that I’d long wanted to write.”

And yet, for all his eagerness to rise above it, his back story dog-ears each page, and the suspicion lurks that this is not so much a vanity project as a wounded-vanity project. Sprezzatura wants to get some more licks in.

And to do it in the guise of public service. Those anonymous assassins, it turns out, weren’t just hurting Siegel (and, he reminds us, his mother), they were ripping holes in our cultural fabric. The subtitle of Siegel’s book is “Being Human in the Age of the Mob,” and it’s worth noting the Burkean scowl of that “mob.” Siegel may have liberal credentials, but he is making, at bottom, a conservative argument: in favor of gatekeepers and cultural elites, against the cacophony of untrammeled opinion.

In the same way that Edmund Burke regarded the guillotine in the Place de la Révolution, Siegel regards Gawker and YouTube. And when he writes that “the Internet is possibly the most radical transformation of private and public life in the history of humankind,” he doesn’t mean “radical” in a nice way (any more than Burke did). Bad times are a-brewing. The “borders of truth” are eroding. Knowledge is “devalued into information.” Americans are producing, not enjoying, their own leisure. Our interior lives are being “packaged like merchandise,” and “the sources of critical detachment are drying up, as book supplements disappear from newspapers and what passes for critical thinking in the more intellectually lively magazines gives way to the Internet’s emphasis on cuteness, novelty, buzz, and pursuit of the ‘viral.’”

A thinker no longer has any space to think, says Siegel. “Ads pop up, spam comes in. If you are a blogger, you are being linked to. Search engines pick up on what you post. E-mail waits to be opened. You are being asked questions. (Can Pretty Boy Save Boxing? Should Paris Go to Jail? Do You Know Your Credit Score?) Gradually, on e-mail, on your blog, on eBay, on Jdate.com, by hook or by crook, the ghosts in your machine — other people — throng closer to you.”

And if Siegel isn’t willing to exorcise the ghosts, he’s willing to get exercised about them. It would be wrong to view his anger simply in personal terms or to deny him a rhetoric commensurate with that anger. For he is, above all, serious about what he does. He believes in the act of criticism, at no small cost, and his most eloquent writing has been a protest against irony in all its incarnations (Jon Stewart, Dave Eggers, Larry David). Irony, after all, is a tacit admission that nothing matters too much, and in Siegel’s world, everything matters, and the critic, in some way, matters most of all.

This is an unfashionable proposition, and it is to Siegel’s credit that he is so willing to make it. Unlike, say, the New Yorker’s Anthony Lane, he’s not afraid to make a fool of himself. He leaps without looking, trusting in the safety net of his taste. Which means, of course, he often lands on his ass. (And occasionally crawls up somebody else’s. In one article, he likened Oprah to Christ.) All the same, there’s nothing penny-ante about Siegel, even when he fails. He ranges widely, he reads closely. The strongest parts of “Against the Machine” are his dissections of Alvin Toffler and like-minded futurists, whose rhetoric has proven all too assimilable with corporate profit.

It’s when Siegel has to gather exhibits for the prosecution that he gets in trouble. No one is safe from his “J’accuse.” He criticizes Method acting because it made movie actors’ faces more accessible and “easily habitable,” which is just one step away, it seems, from digitally interacting with them in video games. (The Method never took root in England. Does that mean kids there don’t play video games?) An especially large paddle is reserved for Malcolm Gladwell. Not for Gladwell’s real offense, which is building castles of pseudo-science in the quicksand of anecdote, but because his book, “The Tipping Point,” made popularity the sole criterion for success and, somehow, laid the groundwork for “homo Interneticus.” I never figured a book could have that kind of power. If it did, Gladwell would have killed off Mr. Interneticus with “Blink,” which privileges instinct over groupthink.

From here, it only gets sillier. We learn that Match.com has taught us how “to perform ourselves, and package ourselves, and sell ourselves to each other.” As if the actual experience of dating hadn’t taught us. To gauge the Internet’s warping of TV, Siegel drags out “American Idol,” surely one of our lowest-tech programs (you phone in your votes, for God’s sake) and a direct descendant, as Siegel acknowledges in passing, of old-time talent shows like “Major Bowes’ Original Amateur Hour.”

When he can’t find sufficiently subversive real-world examples, Siegel channels “Reefer Madness” visions of purest pulp. “Perhaps your husband is, at this very moment, shut away in his office somewhere in your home, carrying on several torrid affairs at the same time under his various aliases: ‘Caliente,’ ‘Curious,’ ‘ActionMan.’ When he emerges from his sequestered lair, red-faced and agitated, is it because he has been arguing for moderation with ‘KillBush46′ on the political blog Eschaton, has failed in his bid to purchase genuine military-issue infrared night goggles on eBay, or has been desperately masturbating while instant-messaging ‘Prehistorical2′?”

Can you really IM and jack off at the same time? Oh, never mind … They’re here! You’re next! And are you any closer to listening? To put it more plainly, if you had to choose someone to preserve civilization from the rabble, would he or she be touchy, impulse-bound and hyperbolic? Or cool, deliberative and Apollonian? In short, would your savior be anything like Lee Siegel?

Any defense of an established culture, if it is to ward off the incursions of the new, must enact the old in some unanswerable way. Through its very performance, it has to cordon itself off from the modernity it’s opposing. Siegel’s prose, by contrast, draws from the same well of hysteria as the enemy — most notoriously and least surprisingly when he is writing about the Internet.

On two separate occasions, from his New Republic pulpit, he has linked bloggers to fascism, citing in particular their “hatred of the processes of politics” and their “knockabout origins.” “Knockabout origins”? That passes beyond Burke into Burke’s Peerage. And outside the Beltway, there aren’t many people keener about political processes than Siegel’s bête noire, Daily Kos. (It’s the processes themselves that Siegel doesn’t care for.) None of that has prevented him from proclaiming the blogosphere “hard fascism with a Microsoft face,” a coinage he handily compressed into “blogofascism.” It’s fair to say that, once you’ve so carelessly flung that tinder into the conversation, you are no longer on the side of reason or culture.

Again and again, Siegel ropes himself with his own lasso. The blogosphere, he warns us, is ruled by a “lust for recognition.” A phrase that grows only funnier when you recall Siegel’s 2003 Slate diary entry, which consists of the author studying himself — very closely — in a mirror. “Lee Siegel, Lee Siegel, Lee Siegel,” he chants. “Lee Siegel, Lee Siegel, Lee Siegel.” Remember the name now? Just in case you forget, there’s a signature gash of red in every Siegel article. Reviewing “The Almost Moon” recently in the New York Times Book Review, he finished off his dissection of Alice Sebold’s much-pilloried book by calling it an “insult to the timber industry.” That’s quite a line; three people quoted it to me within a day of its appearance. But what does it mean, exactly? Wouldn’t the insult be to the tree? What of the glue makers? The publishing-software manufacturers? Were they insulted, too? In “Against the Machine,” after citing a not particularly reprehensible passage from Internet chieftain Tim O’Reilly, Siegel adds: “If your toaster could write a sentence, it would write one just like that.” He gets our attention, yes — and then the questions resume. Why a toaster? Because it’s soulless? Capable of burning the person who uses it? Full of bread crumbs?

Siegel, in other words, has a habit of reaching for the invective nearest to hand, without much regard for the implications. Which places him, cheek by jowl, with the blogo-barbarians pounding on the gates.

There is, finally, an unexamined arrogance in many sociological critiques, and Siegel’s is no exception. The Internet, he tells us, is killing off our society — except for his little corner of it. He alone — OK, maybe a few of his smart friends, too — have the taste, character, fortitude to inoculate themselves against the Internet’s excesses.

But what inoculates us is not our cultural credentials but the basic exigencies of life. We are too riven, too much in the world to become pod people. We may wince at the same mean-spirited rants Siegel objects to, but most of us find ways to ignore them and incorporate the rest into the weave of our lives — just as we did with the radio and television, just as we are doing with the iPhone and the iPod. Virtual Land isn’t where the majority of us live, not permanently; it’s just one of the dozens of course corrections we make between waking and sleeping.

But maybe I wouldn’t say that if I were an intellectual. For instance, I see a double latte; Lee Siegel sees end time. “The old-fashioned café,” as he recalls it, “provided a way to both share and abandon solitude, a fluid, intermediary experience that humans are always trying to create and perfect.” And now? Thanks to our laptops, we are “socially and psychologically cut off from [our] fellow caffeine addicts,” deprived of “the concrete, undeniable, immutable fact of our being in the world.”

It’s the usual Siegel pattern: A prelapsarian fantasy (the days of wine and old-fashioned cafes) gives way to an equally unrecognizable dystopia. At my local coffeehouse, the customers, in between tending to their projects — dissertations, law-school exams, books, kids — converse with each other, flirt with the baristas. We crack jokes, we comment on the music. We know each other’s names, we ask after each other’s families. It is no great challenge to raise our heads from the prosceniums of our laptops. It’s why we’re there in the first place. Even without the cultural gatekeepers to push us out the door, we’ve come looking for the flesh and blood, the lived life, of other people.

Louis Bayard is a novelist and reviewer. His books include "Mr. Timothy" and "The Black Tower."

Simple Pickup: Are these the greatest pickup artists of all time?

Three normal guys with a camcorder changed how I relate to women, and upped the game for a million-dollar industry VIDEO

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Simple Pickup: Are these the greatest pickup artists of all time?

I was sitting on a fold-out couch, wearing only my boxers, when Daniel’s email popped up. There was no subject line, just a simple YouTube link. Over the next hour, I watched all seven videos on Simple Pickup’s channel, each three times over. I couldn’t quite explain my delirium until I read a comment posted by user SeaWeedBrain013: “You guys are my heroes. I don’t understand how your pants can withstand the weight of your balls.”

Simple Pickup’s YouTube channel is devoted to picking up girls. The stars — Kong, Jesse and Jason — film themselves on the streets of Los Angeles, approaching random women, making them laugh, then getting their numbers. In their 16 videos, they’ve picked up 125 numbers. I counted.

Like all red-blooded males, I’d heard of “The Game,” the New York Times bestseller that introduced America to the art of seduction. I’d even read it. Mediocre shows like VHI’s “The Pickup Artist” went further in exposing the “secrets” of the pickup community — for instance, that a “neg” is a backhanded compliment to a pretty girl to get her attention. But these Simple Pickup videos — these guys — were literally the first time I’d seen proof of pickup artists in real life. They weren’t ridiculous fops like Mystery, the dusty and irrelevant host of “The Pickup Artist,” with his feather boas and guyliner. They looked like the dudes who’d gone to Yale with me — normal-looking and nice, self-professed former nerds. Within a week, every guy I knew had either showed me the videos or been sent them by me. We were enamored with the even-keeled, irreverent way they approached women. More important, watching them had given us the deadly confidence that we could do it, too.

Not long after, I was at a summer concert with friends when a Russian girl with beautiful gray eyes sat across from us. I looked at her and said, “Staring contest, let’s go.” The words had simply appeared in my mouth. I won the staring contest. Even better, I left with her number.

A breakdown of their game

The Simple Pickup trio look like generic Los Angeles 20-somethings: Kong is 6 feet tall, with coarse black hair and broad shoulders; Jesse is a scrawny Indian-American with a toupee haircut, who likes pulpy orange juice and screenwriting; Jason is Caucasian, but with a Hispanic tinge, and has two nicknames, either “The Pudgy One” or “JDGAF” (Jason Doesn’t Give a F*). All three of them live in what they affectionately call “the asshole of Orange County,” Fullerton, in a dumpy apartment complex behind an alley.

Their interactions with women, though, are anything but generic. Here’s a typical exchange:

Kong: “I am the best there is, the best there was, and the best there ever will be.”

Unidentified girl: “Can you back that up?”

Kong: “Eventually.”

Their style is endearing, irreverent and brash. They frequently deal in sexual innuendo, zoom off on absurd tangents, and act out for the sake of acting out. And yet, unlike 99.5 percent of the male population, they get phone numbers, on the street, of girls they have just met. That’s the goal of Simple Pickup: to get numbers.

Their videos show a subsection of all the numbers they’ve gotten. (For those keeping score, Kong has 46, Jason has 36 and Jesse has 43.) While their opening lines vary, they can be bucketed into one of four categories: innocuous questions, fake innocuous questions, direct statements and whimsical remarks. Forty-four percent of their successful pickups use direct openers: “Oh my God. You guys are way too cute. I had to meet you. I’m Jesse.” Twenty-seven percent start with whimsical nonsense: “I saw your facial symmetry, and I was like, I need to speak with her.” Twenty-one percent of their introductions are “real” questions: “Do you know where the nearest Marie Callender’s is?” And 8 percent of the time, they go the fake question route: “Would you happen to know where Starbucks is? You know, I can’t lie to you. I just came here because I thought you were cute.” The three amass around 10 numbers in every video; the high-water mark is 17. Privacy is respected: Faces are expertly blurred, only area codes can be heard, and ancillary information, like the names of college buildings, are off-camera.

While their conversations display a flow-chart-like efficiency, the trio’s ample personalities are evident as well. Jason likes toeing the sexual-discomfort line: “You’re like all about piercings, you have one here, one here, one here, obviously your nipples.” Jesse likes to be self-deprecating: “[Talking to you] is a nice change from jerking off in my mom’s basement.” Kong likes to amp up the ridiculous-meter. While dressed up as Harry Potter during one of their “stunt” pickups, Kong tells a girl, “If you make fun of me one more time, I’m going to take my wand and stick it right up your Diagon Alley.”

There’s no universal applicability with regards to what they say. But that’s what’s inspiring. Jesse tells me, “When you’re having a conversation, you can literally say whatever you want. Girls are very forgiving that way.” Besides, what’s more important is the foundation: a pitch-perfect tone that’s challenging, nonchalant and always loud, clear and pithy. It also helps to have their body language: head held high, strong and confident — and at the same time, displaying an almost professional sort of disaffection as well, with a shadow of a slouch and laconic, measured smiles.

While the videos mostly show successful pickups, it’s surprisingly a reflection of the truth. “We get numbers from 50 percent of all girls we approach on college campuses,” Kong says. “It’s 50 percent at Huntington Beach too, and 30 percent at Venice.”

Jesse chimes in, “But that’s because the girls there are a little drunk.”

Most weeks, they film their videos in less than two hours. Just a small fraction of the numbers they pick up in real life are interesting enough to make it into a video. And as for failures? “We’ve all gotten slapped,” Jesse says. “But honestly, we laugh about it and move on.”

On YouTube, where view count is king, their 16 videos have currently totaled 7.3 million views. Their most popular video, “Internet Trolls Pick Up Girls,” has hit the 1 million view benchmark. But as a metric to measure Simple Pickup’s reach, it doesn’t tell the entire story. What’s really important — and where Jason, Jesse and Kong shine in a way no other pickup artists of their kind have — is engagement with the audience: They read every single viewer comment (there have been over 38,000) and use the spiciest for inspiration. In July, one fan commented, “pick up girls acting completely gay, if you guys can do that hell I will call you guys my Gods.” The next week, they donned booty shorts, neon tank tops and rollerblades, and picked up 11 numbers.

Drawing inspiration from viewer comments, they wear absurd outfits or take on challenges to inject every video with more personality. They’ve picked up girls while pretending to be paraplegics in wheelchairs, and only using hip-hop lyrics. The trio maintains an active Twitter handle of more than 3,200 followers, makes instructional tapes directly answering viewer questions, and diligently responds to every direct message, whether it’s a 20-year-old in Oklahoma asking about how to make the first kiss, or a 30-year-old in Denmark sharing an anecdote about how European women are different.

Of course, Simple Pickup doesn’t appeal to everyone. Pickup artists tend to cater to a highly focused, highly invested audience. And just by definition, their videos don’t speak to half of the human race. In August, female YouTube commenter fylothea wrote, “Ugh….i can’t imagine any girl being down for any of this. also, if you need this video to help you get laid, that’s sad. you can’t ‘trick’ girls into liking you. /facepalm.”

Give fylothea credit: She actually watched the video. When Simple Pickup first went viral, I eagerly showed it to one of my female friends, thinking she’d be as hooked as I was to their street magic. A minute and a half in, she turned to me and said, “How can you watch this entire thing?” Of all the videos on YouTube, from NASCAR, to cock fighting, to Megan Fox at a car wash, picking up girls might be the most gender-polarizing.

But that hasn’t kept the broader online community from lauding their efforts. Action movie star the Rock has retweeted their videos; Ashton Kutcher has done the same. Klout, the standard in measuring online influence, gives Simple Pickup a score of 46 (Justin Bieber is 99), which is more than “Social Network” star Jesse Eisenberg. Klout defines Simple Pickup as a “Specialist”: “You may not be a celebrity, but within your area of expertise your opinion is second to none.”

Of course, other pickup videos do exist. SucceedAtDating lays claim to more than 100 videos, one of which has over 400,000 views. Search “Pickup artist videos,” and you’ll find Sasha PUA, InfieldSeductions and DayGameTV serving up video tutorials of how to get a girl’s number. But their video channels can’t boast as loyal a subscriber base, higher average views per video, or a sexier production value than Simple Pickup. And while other channels are marred by the ugliness of commercialization — from in-video product descriptions to online store links — Simple Pickup doesn’t advertise anything except, well, how to get numbers.

Jason, Jesse and Kong are a paragon of Web 2.0 interaction: Their success is tied directly to transparency, feedback mechanisms and user intimacy, and as a result, they’re the most fascinating and inspirational pickup artists today. That’s something the overall pickup establishment, for all its bluster and soigné, is far behind on. Armed with just a Costco video camera and a voice recorder, Simple Pickup may just force a multimillion-dollar pickup artist industry to raise its standards

The problem with the pickup artist industry

The commercialization of seduction began haphazardly. In 1970, Eric Weber released “How to Pick Up Girls.” It was relatively unknown, as was Ross Jeffries’ “How to Get the Women You Desire Into Bed,” published in 1992. It wasn’t until 2005 when Neil Strauss’ bildungsroman, “The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists” — made to look like a Bible, gold trim and all — tipped the seduction community into full sales mode. After Strauss’ book appeared as Amazon.com’s No. 1 seller and spent two months on the New York Times bestseller list, hundreds of companies materialized. Over the years, a caste system for pickup schools has taken shape.

In the top rung are the market behemoths – companies like Love Systems and Real Social Dynamics — that employ a cadre of teachers running three-day, $3,000 boot camps and $697 super-conferences around the world. The middle rung consists of successful one-man shops. Most are ruthless self-promoters who have seized the cultural moment to soak up fame: Paul Janka, a Harvard graduate turned pickup artist, has appeared on “The View” and Dr. Phil; J.T. Tran (aka the Asian Playboy) was an aerospace engineer who quit to run the company ABC’s of Attraction, and was invited to Yale University to give a “Master’s Tea,” usually reserved for people such as Indra Nooyi, Denzel Washington and Brian Williams. The lowest rung consists of two groups: armchair pickup artists and location-specific coaches. Quality is extremely variable. Up-and-comers exist — hip-hop dancer and part-time pickup artist Aiden West, for instance, gives three-hour lessons for $45 in Manhattan (participants meet at a Barnes and Nobles for day game and a … McDonald’s for night game) — but most are snake oil operators hawking recycled wares. Watchdog website PUA Hate lists more than 185 of these companies, which means thousands more probably toil in relative anonymity.

Books are pickup companies’ cash cows. An overwhelming majority of males seeking pickup resources don’t attend events; they read the books. That’s why there are so many: For every top-line publication — Strauss’ “Rules of the Game,” Savoy’s “Magic Bullets” — there are 100 other self-published, self-marketed e-books, from “Bang,” by Roosh, to “Conquer Your Campus,” by Mark Redman. Books are the industry’s bread-and-butter: easy to create, easy to disseminate.

And yet, for their relative ease to produce, they are guarded zealously. Most pickup websites contain just two types of pages: teaser testimonials that are the very definition of bombast, vouching failsafe methods for sleeping with supermodels; and a credit card payment page. These pay walls either exist because a company truly values its intellectual property, or because it is selling horse manure. Without any verifiably genuine consumer reviews, and without well-organized discussion forums, how does the average consumer really know what’s legitimate?

They don’t.

That’s where Simple Pickup changes the game. Their “in-field” videos capture interactions men can analyze and decode; no more relying on blind faith theories in text. The shift adds tremendous value for the consumer, and yet, none of the major pickup companies have truly embraced video, an approach that is short-sighted at best and self-destructive at worst. Body language contributes 92 percent to a social interaction’s success; books regurgitate what was said — a poor substitute for what’s more important: how it was said.

As much as reading creates knowledge, it doesn’t instill belief. Simple Pickup’s videos bridge the gap between insinuating and emulating; and they provide a solution to the pickup industry’s tell-not-show problem. What, exactly, does the viewer learn? Well, let’s see.

The promise of pickup

Before talking about what Simple Pickup teaches us, it’s worth asking why the videos are so damn popular. Why hasn’t the pickup artist fad withered away yet? Why are 20-something males hanging on to these videos like they’ve unearthed the holy grail?

To help answer that, let’s turn to the 2009 census data on sexual activity, which showed that 31 percent of the U.S. male population has had fewer than three sexual partners, while 23 percent of males had over 15 sexual partners in their lifetimes. That’s quite a spread. The promise of 21st century sexual liberation has been primarily enjoyed by a sliver of the male population — the alpha males, while beta males (and omega males) feel shut out. The seduction community is designed for men who didn’t grow up with an older brother or sister teaching them the ropes; men who don’t think they’re attractive; men who are simply too scared to even think about failure. By telling these men that there’s a quantifiable path toward learning how to be good with women, it gives them a tangible action plan, where before there was blind meandering. Pickup discards external glory — fame, the money of a hot start-up CEO, the body of an NBA player — for the simple trappings of knowledge and inner confidence. It’s a call to possibility; it’s a pathway to attracting the impossible girl of our dreams.

Think of Simple Pickup’s videos as the male equivalent of the Hollywood 48-hour miracle diet; after all, men gaining confidence may be the closest corollary to women losing weight. By capturing evidence that they can pick up a girl in any situation, Simple Pickup is essentially saying, “I lost 30 pounds in two days! Here’s the proof! And you can too!” They make picking up numbers look easy; when you watch it enough times, you’ll realize that it actually is.

It wasn’t originally simple for Kong, Jesse and Jason. They used to be a veritable dork squad. “I used to play ‘Warcraft’ all day,” Kong says. “It was ‘Starcraft’ for Jesse. And Jason – he liked anime. Actually, he still does.”

During college, they were antisocial. “It felt very hard to go out there and make new friends,” Jesse says. “But once I met these guys, you know what we realized? It’s not hard to talk to random people.” For the three, what started as daring each other to do stupid things has turned into a lifetime vocation.

“I’m dropping everything for this,” Jason says. “Simple Pickup is my life.” Their goal is to inspire socially sheltered men to develop confidence and have fun in social situations.

Kong says, “We want to give the message that what seems impossible isn’t that hard to do.”

Simple Pickup’s videos teach Three Big Lessons. The first is that it’s not what you say, but how you say it. “When I first tried talking to a girl, I kept telling Kong it wasn’t going to work,” Jason said. “Then I realized you can get away with a lot more than you think.” A devil-may-care attitude and the right tone obviate the need for “the perfect line.” Inexperienced college students and “Starcraft” geeks (not mutually exclusive) take note: If Simple Pickup can get a number after telling a girl she likes semen on her back, a normal conversation should be easy.

The second Big Lesson is that looks don’t matter. Forget elegance; Simple Pickup’s videos demonstrate a universal truth: Don’t change your style. You’re perfect (and can pick up women) just the way you are. An equally important ancillary point is that race doesn’t matter either. Conventional pickup artists are stereotyped (partially deserved) as handsome Caucasian males. Jason, Jesse and Kong aren’t traditionally good-looking; all of them (though they might argue this) are just like you or me. And yet, despite the fact that they’re not a group of great-looking white guys — maybe because of that? — Simple Pickup can talk to women of every skin tone.

The last and most important Big Lesson is to have fun. “Turn everything that you’re scared of into something fun,” Kong recommends. “If you’re fat, go up to a girl and say, ‘Hey, I know I’m a fat ass, but I wanted to meet you.’” Laughter and goodwill mollify rejection’s sting. Their videos are filled with playfulness; they relish the challenge and the camaraderie, not the end result.

Meanwhile, the pickup community lags behind with Generation Y. It’s become too insular, jargon-laden, and costly for the 22-year-old male. At this moment, nobody in the multimillion-dollar pickup establishment offers as much upfront, accessible and motivational content as Simple Pickup. Of course, it’s not exactly overturning the industry yet; while Simple Pickup has incorporated as a company, it has no revenue traction. They haven’t even released a full-length pickup yet. But even if Jesse, Jason and Kong only ever produce videos, they might already be the harbingers for the pickup artist video revolution.

It may be that pickup 1.0, with its reliance on books, will go the way of the Post Office, the Yellow Pages and pornography: The walled gardens will crumble, armchair charlatans will be exposed, and industry stalwarts will be forced to offer more dynamic content upfront. The business model might even shift to free content online and paid coaching offline. It’s a new world, and Simple Pickup is leading the transformation. Of course, they might also just be enjoying their 15 minutes of fame.

Right now, though, on a breezy end-of-summer day in August, it’s just a couple of buddies having fun.

The three have just piled all their equipment into Kong’s ’91 Toyota Corolla. Today, they’re dressed as magicians, and with the weather a balmy 88 degrees, it’s another perfect day in Southern California. The location this afternoon is Hollywood.

“Kong!” Jesse yells. “Two hotties are coming your way. Go!”

“All right,” Kong replies. “Is the camera on?”

Jason starts rolling the tape, standing in plain view just 20 feet away (the girls rarely notice). Kong, who is wearing a black top hat and red suit, gives him a thumbs up. Then he turns toward the stream of traffic, and stares down two girls walking toward him.

“I want you to pick a number between one and 10 … now!”

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Peter J. Lu is a 2011 graduate of Yale University. Visit him at his blog and Twitter @peterjlu.

Today’s must-see viral videos

Watch: Seven minutes in heaven with Hoda, the true meaning of crossword puzzles, and a dog walking itself

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Today's must-see viral videosHoda spends seven minutes in heaven with SNL's Mike O'Brien.

1. Dog walks itself:

I think there’s a lot to be said for this video, and I might not be the person to say it. It’s so simple, yet so profoundly sad. Why is this dog walking itself, you may ask. Where did its master go? Where is the dog planning to go next? And is it just a sad statement on our society that some kids taping this poor ole’ guy on the boardwalk think it’s “awesome” that this dog is forlornly carrying its own leash in its mouth?

 

2. Anderson Cooper loves that Gerard Depardieu urination story:

Look, we all think it’s hysterical that French actor Gerard Depardieu loves to pee on people on airplanes. But Anderson Cooper really just can’t hold it together on live TV when talking about the incident.  Maybe he needs to go back to journalism school.

(Just kidding, only a robot wouldn’t laugh at this story.)

3. The history of the vibrator, starring Maggie Gyllenhaal:

I’ve always been fascinated that vibrators were created by doctors to cure women of erratic behavior because doctors’ hands were getting too tired. Of course, putting attractive people in the cast of this new film about the subject (aptly titled “Hysteria”) is kind of a stretch: Even in olden times it was a truth universally acknowledged, that a single Hugh Dancy in possession of a good vibrator must service half the women in England.

 

4. A four letter word for “innuendo during crosswords”:

As it turns out, whenever people ask for help in crossword puzzles in TV or movies, what they are really asking is for social acceptance … and love.

 

5. “7 Minutes in Heaven” with Hoda:

If you haven’t been checking out Mike O’Brien’s “7 Minutes in Heaven” series, they are pretty genius. It’s not “Between Two Ferns” or anything, and Mike here seems way more like Kenneth from “30 Rock” than a mean-spirited interviewer trying to “punk” celebrities, but he’s very good at being funny anyway! I think it’s his natural instinct to let these performers do whatever the hell they want during the segment, which in Hoda Kotb’s case is definitely drinking red wine and talking crap about Kathie Lee.

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Drew Grant is a staff writer for Salon. Follow her on Twitter at @videodrew.

Five pop culture items we missed

Today's catch: American Girl dolls with questionable immune systems, "Dirty Dancing" redux, and a new celeb Hitler

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Five pop culture items we missed Cécile Rey and Marie-Grace Gardner come with their own yellow fever back story.

1. Internet crackdown of the day: California’s Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation is trying to ban the use of social networking for prisoners, saying it “has seen numerous instances in which inmates, using their Facebook accounts, have delivered threats to victims or have made unwanted sexual advances.”

2. Cringe-worthy Hitler analogy of the day: Sorry, Kanye, your reign was but too brief. Today, the crew of “Two and a Half Men” claim that they prefer working with Ashton Kutcher over “Hitler.” Look, Charlie Sheen may be a lot of things, but he obviously does not have his life together enough to start a genocidal war.

3. Remake of the day: “Dirty Dancing,” which will be directed by the film’s original choreographer Kenny Ortega. Does no one remember the travesty of “Havana Nights“?

4. Disturbing toy of the day: Ooh, two new American Girl dolls! Marie-Grace and Cecile Rey are best friends in New Orleans during the yellow fever epidemic in 1815. Well, that’s dark.

5. Trailer of the day: “The Darkest Hour,” which is about invisible Russian aliens who are stealing our electricity.

Might as well have skipped the subtlety and named this “Cold War II: But With Aliens.”

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Drew Grant is a staff writer for Salon. Follow her on Twitter at @videodrew.

Today’s must-see viral videos

Watch: Barney Frank's gas-passing, New York's smallest apartment, and how far three college degrees will get you

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Today's must-see viral videosBarney Frank, possible farter

1. Barney Frank may or may not have passed gassed on television last night:

OK, I’ve watched/listened to this video of Democrat Rep. Barney Frank talking to Rachel Maddow three times now, and it definitely sounds like a fart.

We can pretend like there are more important things going on in American politics right now than a natural bodily function, but let’s not kid ourselves. Flatulence remains the No. 1 key issue for voters during election years; everyone knows that.

2. The smallest living area in New York that you still can’t afford:

For only $800 a month, you too can live in this 78-square foot closet that some Manhattan real estate dealer pawned off as an apartment.

 

3. Oh the places you’ll go:

Warning: Do not show this video of Maurice Johnston — a Dartmouth-educated Boston resident with three degrees (including electrical engineering and a Ph.D. in physics) and no place to live — to any recent college graduates.

 

4. “American Idol” winner Scott McCreery’s first music video:

It’s called “I Love You This Big.” There is a lot of hugging. He has a really deep voice. 

Also: fireworks.

5. Viral video becomes iPhone game:

Remember the famous “Baby monkey riding backward on a pig” clip with the catchy song?

OK, but now imagine that scene, but animated! And also you get to control the animals. And also it’s not as cool because obviously you can make anything up for a video game, but that monkey on a pig thing actually happened.

As addicting as Swedish Fish,” says the game’s press release, which must know how much I hate Swedish Fish.

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Drew Grant is a staff writer for Salon. Follow her on Twitter at @videodrew.

Justin Timberlake asked out by YouTube Marine

After pushing Mila Kunis to accept a date to the Marine Corps Ball, the star is put in the same spot

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Justin Timberlake asked out by YouTube MarineWill Corporal Kelsey De Santis' video convince Justin to take her to the ball?

On Monday I was giving big ups to Justin Timberlake for helping Sgt. Scott Moore score a date with Mila Kunis to the Marine Corps Ball in November. You see, Scott had made a YouTube video asking Mila out, and the whole thing got picked up by the Huffington Post, inevitably making its way back to Kunis and her publicist. She might have found a way to decline, but her “Friends With Benefits” costar happened to be with her when a Fox News journalist asked the actress whether she had seen the video. Justin essentially told Mila it was her patriotic duty to go on a date with the Marine, and so now she is.

Justin had better be ready to put his money where his mouth is, because Cpl. Kelsey De Santis, currently the only female serving at the Martial Arts Center for Excellence at Marine Corps Base Quantico, has made a video for J.T.:

There’s no gracious way for Justin to bow out of going to the ball with De Santis after promising Mila to another Marine. The Marine Corps Ball in North Carolina is going to have more paparazzi outside it this year than a Hilton birthday bash, which I’m hoping will kick off a new trend of celebrities dating servicemen and women. Because lord knows I’m sick of seeing celebrities date each other.

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Drew Grant is a staff writer for Salon. Follow her on Twitter at @videodrew.

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