Cloud69 Sex Blog

In the 100,000 or so years that anatomically modern homo sapiens have been kickin’ it on Earth, we’ve done just about all in our considerable power to set ourselves apart from all the other flora and fauna around. However, we’re still subject to the common denominators that form our place in the great Circle of Life. When it comes down to it, all that “technology” and “advancement” and “progress” has always just been about more impressive ways to convince someone to tolerate your presence while you attempt to bone them.

In that light, you might sneer at the folks at the bar who have crafted their entire persona around the very few facets of themselves they feel is most likely to help get them laid. But these douchebags are just carrying on the proud tradition that binds us to our brethren in the Great Circle of Life. Here are how some of our fellow travelers on spaceship Earth say “how you doin’”?

Honey Bees

The Game

With thousands of individuals comprising a hive, the word of the day when it comes to scoring some hot queen bee action is “competition.” You’d think, then, that drone bees would spend all their times hitting the hive’s weightroom and studying up on foreign languages and poetry or something. That’s what chicks like, right? Right?

But no, these drones are fucking tools. They have no personal goals or ambitions, their sole function in life is to sneak some sperm into a virgin queen, and then get the hell out of everyone’s way by immediately dying. “Eh,” you might be saying “living with coitus as your sole purpose isn’t that bad a lot in life.” Maybe not, it’s not just that it’s the only thing these losers want to do. It’s literally the only thing they can do. They have no pollen sacs, so they have no use for flowers. They have no stingers, and what good is a stingerless bee? That’s like a fang-less vampire. They can’t even feed themselves; the workers have to drag the drones’ sorry asses to maturity.

Immediately when a queen reaches reproductive age and takes off on her own, she is set upon by hordes of sycophantic drones, each of whom is trying his best to be the queen’s closest confidant while cock-blocking everyone else. “Cockblocking” in this case is about as literal as it gets. The drone’s sole claim to credit is the ability to mate mid-flight with the virgin queen, the coolness factor of which is quickly surmounted by horror as his penis and most of his abdomen pop right off the rest of his body, so as to plug the hole and prevent subsequent mating from the other drones around. That’s right, these bastards actually turn in their Man Cards to the Manhood membership desk, just so the next guy can’t get any.

This is the guy who:

for years has fluttered in orbit around that awesomely hot, smart, fun, megababe you know, forming an occasionally hostile protective wall to shield her from being asked out by any other dude. He worships this girl and lets her know it, but she has no idea he’s anything other than just her sweetheart, bestest friend, and isn’t it so great that she found this guy who just wants to be her friend without ulterior motives? Little does she know that he’s giving himself the ol’ low 5 twice a night exclusively to mental imagery of the fantasy sexual encounter with her that will never happen, but has been eating him alive inside since Day 1.

He has no life of his own, and if anyone is sympathetic enough to actually try to engage him independently of her, he always has to check to see if it’s okay with her to go to the bar, or the game, or the show, quickly changing his mind about it if she responds negatively. Most of his conversations are at least tangentially about her. He loves to tell other guys about the things they did together, so as to hint at their intimacy and dissuade any approach by their part. He shadows her at parties like the Secret Service. He’s turned over his manhood to her in every way except the way he really wants.

Red-capped Manakin

Moon Walking Red-Capped Manakin

The Game

The red-capped manakin is a little sparrow-sized bird native to certain forest regions of tropical Central and South America. Its thing is a mating dance. Now, that’s nothing too special for birds. Many species include very bright, gaudy males who would be ridiculed as homos as they pranced around to display their flamboyant plumage and colors, if those eye-catching accessories weren’t the very thing that got them laid…with ladies.

The red-capped manakin has stepped up his game. He doesn’t just puff up his feathers and bob his head around while turning circles like those douchenozzle pigeons. This cat does a god-damned moonwalk. We shit you not.

Don’t try to deny spending at least a few minutes in front of a mirror at some point in your life seeing if you couldn’t pull off that backward slide, knee bend trick. You were 16, wearing tight acid-washed jeans and looked to make sure your mom wasn’t around before running a hand down to your crotch, thrusting out your hips and squealing “HEE!”

Now, we appreciated MJ’s contributions to music and dance as much as the next red-blooded Amercian, but we’re starting to tire of the endless tribute-mongering. Still, this little guy deserves at least a passing mention on one of the current 24-7 “Death of an Icon” marathons on VH1.

This is the guy who:

bothered to actually learn how to moonwalk. Sure, the gift of dance comes naturally to some folks, but moon walking (or other visually impressive yet extremely specific dance moves) is something that only really works if it’s done near perfectly – otherwise, you just look like you’re backpedalling like a dork. It’s going to take significant effort beforehand to get all mechanics just right. He’s going to have practiced it, tweaked it, practiced some more, and ultimately worked to perfection something that is only going to make a difference for him in one particular context: the club.

Unless he’s going for comedy, he’s not going to bust out a moonwalk on just any occasion, for fear of coming off as pretentious to the females he’s trying to impress. He needs just the right context, and waits patiently just for that. In a sense, he’s put all his eggs into one basket. In his lifetime, there are maybe 10 to 20 times that he’ll be at a flashy club, with dance circle formed, and Billy Jean just came on. But man, oh man when the planets align for the Moonwalker, it isn’t going to look like it’s something he’s worked on, it’s going to look like something that just flowed from within. Every female in the room is going to be floored by this dude.

We’re not denying that dancing skills are impressive and fun to learn. Hell, we find ourselves curiously aroused just from that red-capped manikin video. We’re saying in the time we spent on our asses playing video games, the Moonwalker was working on something that we would have no chance of competing with on his turf. It’s enough to make us want to just give up the whole mating thing altogether.

Bowerbird

Native to New Guinea and parts of Australia, the Bowerbird family includes 20 species, most of which engage in a very obsessive form of nesting. Males build a home called a “bower,” and it isn’t used to raise a happy family of chicks, oh no. The young hatch and grow up elsewhere. No, he constructs, decorates, and fastidiously maintains his bachelor pad for the sole purpose of furthering his goals as a player. And the hell of it is, just like with humans, this actually works.

There are several types of bower architecture (some even have roofs), but the most common involves two horizontally placed sticks which outline a pad of arranged twigs, leaves, and shells, stones, flowers, berries, pieces of plastic – all of which adhere to a particular color scheme. Yeah that’s right, this bird actually thinks about whether the dresser matches the wall color. He’s probably stashed some roofies in there somewhere.

The guy with the best condo in the neighborhood receives the most female callers to spend the night, and presumably don’t mind being told at 2:00 am that he’s got work in the morning and they should really get going. A successful man-cave will make enough of an impression to lure the same individual females back the next year. Jesus, not only does the Bowerbird have the Player Cave, he’s got a Little Black Book as well.

This is the guy who:

has the condo uptown, and spares no expense on its cleaning and maintenance. Granite countertops; dark wood furniture with plush finish; flat-panel TV hidden behind retractable cabinet doors; remote control light dimmer; fancy, never-used kitchenware prominently displayed; shower for two; not a single god damn speck of dust in the whole place. He’ll invite you over, ladies, but you damn well better not track any rainwater in, or accidentally knock over a wineglass. His place is a means to an end, but he’s grown to love it way more than he’ll ever love the women it’s designed to impress.

He loves to talk about it as well, and will have probably invited you over or at least hinted at it several times before you acquiesced. He knows he’s only at his full strength in his natural habitat, and venturing forth to common meeting grounds is usually just to convince others to return to his lair.

Argentine Lake Duck

The Game

We’re going to cut to the chase. This is a duck that is hung like a T-Rex. Its full body size is a bit smaller than the mallard ducks we’re used to seeing around in North America, but it sports a schlong that extends about 17 inches. Ladies, try to imagine a 17-inch flesh sword on a human, and the slight discomfort you might feel about it getting crammed into you. Now imagine you’re about 20 inches tall to begin with. Squish. Guys, imagine your equipment was almost as long as you are tall. You’d have to wrap it around your waist a few times and route it the slack down your pants leg before you go out.

Actually, the thing isn’t very thick, but at 17 inches, you still have to be impressed. Ornithologists were baffled for awhile as to what the hell good it is to be dragging around your junk, especially when in your line of work, it pays to be aerodynamic. Recent observation has hinted that a dick to shame a porn star is used not only for mating displays, but also to entangle and actually lasso those hard-to-get ladies for whom “no” means “yes.” Wait, these ducks don’t even have opposable thumbs, how the hell do they swing around a lasso, genital or otherwise?\

This is the guy who:

uses his 6-foot long man-rope to wrangle unreceptive ladies. It’s time we stopped turning a blind eye to it.