Nerds: A Pictorial, Pt. 1

Classic Nerd



Guys like this, you don't see a lot of anymore... rocking some serious nerd pride like it's a twelve-inch cock all decked out in NES peripherals. Dude's got a POWER GLOVE, motherfucker. Pre-teen me is jealous as shit. But outside of the occasional comic book convention and/or a They Might Be Giants show, guys really don't let their freak flag fly so boldly in the year 2008. Kind of a shame actually; we, as a culture, need people like Lord Nintendo up there hanging around to spice up our existence. Just like we need porn stars and the heavily tattooed and those bendy folk in Cirque du Soleil and jam band bassists on acid... the unusual keep our lives interesting. Our planet would be a boring-ass place if everyone just wore khakis and pocket-tees and talked about the current political climate and went to bed at a reasonable hour and ate lots of cereal. Got to mix it up a bit. Otherwise, SNORE.

Modern Nerd



See, you don't know WHAT this dude's all about. Is he a super-genius MIT professor that can talk to computers and travel through time? Or is he the lead singer in a Brooklyn-based, art-rock trio that's taking the concept of "nerd" and jamming it back up our asses with an ironic wink? The pocket full of pens suggests the former, but the proto-grizzle and bland frames point towards a bedroom cluttered with vinyl and guitar picks. So which is it really? Shit, I don't know. I just found the picture on the internet. But that's kind of an answer in and of itself because... nerds today... they are a riddle wrapped in an enigma and rolling in millions of dollars earned off computer games where you beat prostitutes and/or albums that blow your brains out the back of your skull with a musical shotgun forged in a vat of molten awesome.

Medieval Nerds



Look, I enjoy a giant turkey leg and a jousting match as much as the next guy, but... as with everything... there's a line. And once you cross that line, you find yourself in a world where the purchase of a $600 hand-crafted sword is a reasonable expense and you're wearing a CAPE on a regular basis and you're throwing around the words "ye" and "m'lady" like gang signs on the streets of Compton. It's not cute. But what's weird? These medieval nerds? They get chicks. Like, frequently. Chicks that are maybe a little too into Xena: Warrior Princess and novels set in lands that don't exist but... you know... chicks. With vaginas and everything. I don't know... I'm very pro-nerd; love the things they create, love their slavish devotion to hobbyism, love their general fuck-you-societal-norms attitude. For some reason, though, the medieval nerds kinda sorta piss me off. I think it's the faux tough-guy, I'm TOTALLY a knight of the realm posturing that bugs me the most. If you're a nerd, fucking BE A NERD. Don't pretend you're a 12th century dragonslayer named Rothbard. That's just silly, and you're silly by extension.

Fake Nerds



Wow, this guy's really nerdy... with the tape on his glasses and the bow tie... what a total ner-... hey... wait a minute... that's Brad, the senior VP of marketing for a web-based graphic design firm! Oh, Brad... you're such a cut-up!!! Dressing up like a nerd when in reality, you drive a Humvee and only watch Will Ferrell movies and spend a lot of money on Rogain and fantasize about your high school days when you could take members of the Computer Club behind the gym and beat the shit out of them while Coach just laughed and laughed. Now your only weapon is mocking, Brad, and it drives you CRAZY. And... yeah... I know it's just a Halloween costume. Whatever. It's nerdism. I bet Brad's costume next year is black shoe polish and an afro wig and a bucket of KFC. He'll even do a little soft shoe on command. Motherfucking Brad from Marketing. God I hate him.

Girl Nerds

Hot. I mean, yeah, she's not a ten or anything, but... kids... smart chicks are the new babes. Consider this: What would you rather have lying next to you in bed... a girl like this that can carry on a conversation about the metaphysics of the soul and fuck like a demon (all nerdy chicks are wild in the sack; no idea why) or a striking, blond model that smells like cigarettes and talks about the new Fergie album for three and a half hours while you stare at the ceiling hating your dick for getting you into this claustrophobic death trap of a social mess. Don't worry, I'll answer for you... you want the nerdy chick. With her, you end up with a hilarious girlfriend that watches horror movies and sometimes lets you win at chess. With the model, you end up with genital warts and make-up spread all over your bathroom counter like cockroaches in a condemned building. An easy call if ever there was one.