[SPONSORED BY PFEIZER AND THE UNITED PSYCHIATRIASTS OF NEOFASCISOTA]
The old temples are gone.
The courtship rituals of yore:
Flowers, letters, actual eye contact, feelings, both people being aware that the other even exists…
Those days are gone. We say “GOOD RIDDANCE!”
Dating is for the boomers and doomers.
Pornography site comment-crafting?
That, my closest friend and confidante and favorite subscriber, is the true final boss of love.
Anonymous, parasocial, hyper-stimulated, and rewarded only by the fleeting dopaminergic, hallucinatory sensation of connection, modern romance can feel like it isn’t fair.
Like it’s all too much.
Like it isn’t even real…
But fear not.
As NeoFascism(TM) has so carefully demonstrated over the past decade or so, reality has no place in the human experience anymore.
Today we descend into the abyss and merge with our truest selves. The ones who, at four in the morning, are sipping Monster Energy Zero, chain-smoking American Spirits, and carefully half-scanning disturbing video titles to avoid that dastardly “conscience” that just won’t seem to stop following us around!
Follow these steps and you won’t just be another “first!” or “this is why I’m single” guy.
You’ll be the legend who actually gets noticed in the only arena modern man still dares to enter:
The Collisseum of Commentation
The Scan
(0–3 seconds after video starts)
Don’t type, simple one!
Observe.
Stare.
Imagine.
- What role is being performed in the video? The “stepsister trying not to wake grandma?” The “stepmom who keeps warning you that dad is getting home soon?” The “stepgrandma trying not to wake stepsister?”
- What is the hidden emotional payload? Most videos are 30% performance and 70% quiet despair. Tap into that despair. What does it feel like? Look like? TASTE LIKE? Savor it. Ingest it. Defecate it. Smell it. All of our sense are blessings, and each of them will help here. This despair is a shared avenue of emotional investment for both the viewer, and the performer! Take advantage!
- Note the timestamp of the exact moment the performer breaks character for half a second. Maybe her phone went off and – despite hers and her oddly, politically active boyfriend’s best attempts – the fear of being isolated from her loved ones manages to bleed through the camera. You may be able to detect her fear of abuse. That’s your hook. That’s where the magic happens. White knight to the rescue!
The Layered Comment Structure
The Holy Trinity
Every god-tier comment has three layers.
Miss one and you’re just noise to this perfectly normal, psychologically healthy woman you’ve been jerking off to for three hours so far today.
Layer 1 – The Bate and Twitch
Something short, slightly absurd, and timed to the exact second of peak action.
Example:
“1:05 – when she noticed that her roommate was peeking through her door and she screamed in terror before continuing grinding on her pillow, I think I finally felt what real is.”
Layer 2 –The Dagger Drop
Slip in a micro-dose of unfortunate honesty that makes the algorithm (and any sentient viewers) pause.
“Bro this is why feminists keep us virgins. real connection shatters there hole filosofies.”
Or:
i actualy thot she was my mom at the end
Layer 3 – The Escape Hatch
Immediately undermine yourself so you don’t come off as too weird.
“but i can at least kinda agree wit first wave feminismm”
Or:
“my mom died a few years ago. thx 4 the good memories”
Advanced Techniques
- The Expert Gambit: Ask for the make and model of the mini-van from which the performer pulled her groceries in the intro. Then, flex your cursory knowledge of proper engine maintenance while ferrying around your former family.
- The Grammar Correction from Hell: Fix a typo in the title with such savage precision and rage that it reads like it may lead to a hate crime.
- The Sweet Existential Crisis Drop: “Vid solved my childhood. Thx, bb.” Short, sweet, effective.
- The Meta-Comment: Comment on the other top comments. “Actually, I don’t think she would appreciate being objectified as such. At least my step-great-aunt wouldn’t. Not before the accident, anyway…”
Post-Comment Ritual
- Do not refresh for at least 45 minutes. If you’re gonna play the game. Play to win, bro.
- If you get a reply from the uploader: you have briefly escaped the cave. DON’T SECOND GUESS IT! Don’t wonder if it’s her boyfriend, or her handler, or the woman who owned the orphanage where she grew up. Celebrate with manic joy. Don’t worry about the crash. Live fast, cry hard. Try logging off for two hours to avoid anything ruining the fantasy (this is the true test of enlightenment).
- If you get ratio’d into oblivion: congratulations, the others are now jealous of your wit and crypto stash. Screenshot the conversation and show your psychiatrist as proof that “they are out to get [you]”.
CONCLUSION
Crafting the perfect PornHub comment is not a fucking game.
The comment section is the last bastion of emotional honesty for the unjustly outcast. So what if you are ugly?
Who cares if you are fat?
Or bald?
Or broke?
Or think you’ll actually end up with a “tradwife” one day?
Or whatever?
That’s no one’s business but your own. And your parasocial paramour’s.
She doesn’t care. She never will. She doesn’t even know you exist.
She is perfect, and she was made for you, dude.
Isn’t it obvious?
Don’t think about the “details.”
Do think about how she’s probably laughing and fawning over your comment right now, secretly preparing to escape with you and Jesus or Mohammad or Buddha or Taylor Swift or whoever starred in your favorite Marvel movie.
It does.
Not.
Matter.
Nothing matters!
Nothing at all!
Master these simple techniques and maybe, just maybe, you’ll finally get to walk off into the sunset, leaving behind this horrifying, postmodern existence with someone who actually gives a fuck!
The only way to lose is not to play!!!
[SPONSORED BY PFEIZER AND THE UNITED PSYCHIATRIASTS OF NEOFASCISOTA]
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