#tj: im trying to get all my characters to level 90

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New Post has been published on https://shovelnews.com/the-love-song-of-dril-and-the-boys/

The Love Song Of Dril And The Boys

I have not read dril’s book. I cannot read dril’s book. 

Dril Official “Mr. Ten Years” Anniversary Collection compiles 1,500 of the pseudonymous Twitter user’s greatest tweets, and it is simply too funny for me to read for more than a page or two at a time without laughing so hard, I feel physically ill. Ask my family if you don’t believe me. Ask the patrons of the West Babylon Public Library, who have been shooting me dirty looks since I began writing this essay. Every time I crack the book open, I’m seconds away from hitting something like this … 

“hello 911 I need a moat dug around my house immediately” “sir this line is for emergencies only” “Thuis is an emergency moat”

— wint (@dril) May 18, 2014

 … or this …

koko the talking ape.. has been living high on the hog, wasting our tax dollars on high capacity diapers. No more. i will suplex that beast,

— wint (@dril) September 7, 2014

… or this … 

where do girls live

— wint (@dril) October 20, 2010

… and that’s it. Show’s over. “Goodnight Irene,” as Gorilla Monsoon would say. (“I will suplex that beast.”)

Dril’s blend of fist-on-the-table bluster, abject confusion and burned-toast syntax — the style of humor he pioneered, which became the lingua franca of Funny/Weird Twitter in toto — has my number. Like Monty Python’s run-on sketches, non sequiturs and Terry Gilliam animation; like the endless awkward pauses, omnipresent electrical humming and recycled animation of “Space Ghost Coast to Coast”; like Tim and Eric’s garish colors, glitchy video and non-actor stars, dril’s tweets are a new way to be funny, with a rhythm and vocabulary all their own. I love it.

But dril? Dril loves the boys. 

A recurring collective character in dril’s oeuvre, the boys occupy a unique place in his taxonomy, which, thanks to the book’s arrangement of tweets by topic, is easier than ever to get the hang of. For example, girls are mysterious sources of intermingled awe and terror, like the monoliths in “2001.”

ah, So u persecute Jared Fogle just because he has different beliefs? Do Tell. (girls get mad at me) Sorry. Im sorry. Im trying to remove it

— wint (@dril) November 1, 2015

Brands are icons of integrity, as admirable as they are untouchable.

just deleted 23,000 tweets at the request of Sbarro. feeling Purified

— wint (@dril) July 5, 2015

The trolls are contemptible pests, an implacable obstacle.

will no longer be livestreaming foreskin restoration process; the trolls who attempted to summon [インプ] (Imps) into the chatroom are to blame

— wint (@dril) February 3, 2012

And then there’s rival Twitter user @DigimonOtis, a class by himself: He is nemesis, the anti-dril.

(reading my latest death threat ) “from the desk of DigimonOtis…” this is bullshit. digimonotis has never owned a desk

— wint (@dril) November 6, 2014

But the boys are on dril’s level. The boys welcome dril with open arms. They share his hopes and fears, his loves and hates. He’s one of the boys.

Just met w/ Boys Lunch Club. Seems to me, That we are very pissed off that teen girls would rather kiss, “Soldier Boy,” than Actual Soldiers

— wint (@dril) May 16, 2016

pleased to report my custom beer tap that makes a dramatic diarrhea noise while filling the glass is a hit with the boys at the fondue club

— wint (@dril) October 16, 2014

best 90s memory is gathering around the old oak tree with the boys and passing around trading cards featuring all of our dads #DamnGood90s

— wint (@dril) April 30, 2013

Crucial to the boys’ appeal is their exclusivity. Like any clique, they’ve invested their aesthetic preferences with moral weight, and those who violate them do so at their peril.

darknet 2002: pics of dead guys in bath tubs, warez darknet 2017: discussions amongst the boys as to which of our acquaintances aren t funny

— wint (@dril) August 11, 2017

me & the booys are riffing on 78 hours of stolen walgreens security cam footage. this guy on here just bought a toilet brush. bitch!! bitch!

— wint (@dril) December 8, 2014

me and the boys have decided that the least gay way of wiping your ass is to dump a quarter bottle of Palmolive Spring Sensations back there

— wint (@dril) September 17, 2016

Dril may be a member in good standing, but membership brings responsibilities as well as privileges.

the boys held an intervention about me “Going hollywood” because i;ve been buying plastic toothpicks now

— wint (@dril) June 1, 2018

THE BOYS: were watching the mr bean episode where you can see his ass. get over here ME: cant. wifes making me watch mr beans holiday (2007)

— wint (@dril) June 14, 2017

If the boys function as dril’s superego, instilling and policing values, they are also his id — an embodiment of his most voracious physical drives.

pussy log 12.29.11: justin unscrewed the knob from the door to the ladies’ room and now the club boys all take turns cradling it

— wint (@dril) December 30, 2011

“Ah!! Lunchtime, Boys!” i snort several lines of Hamburger Helper, tilt my head back and shake with unbearable agony as my head turns purple

— wint (@dril) May 15, 2013

The comedy and tragedy of dril is that he is a man without ego, the mediating force that balances the needs of id and superego. He is perpetually out of balance, careening from excess to shame. He requires the intervention of the boys, the example they set, just to function.

This is why the saga of dril and the boys is a love story — conditional and occasionally unrequited though that love may be. It is poignant because it is impossible to imagine dril living without them any more than Juliet could live without Romeo.

When the lovers are in harmony — when the needs of id, ego and superego are aligned at last — the result is a thing of beauty.

going ape shit at the gym. rotating in full 360 degrees with the boys, flawlessly synchronized

— wint (@dril) November 28, 2017

The boys can be peers, contributing to the good posts for which dril is best known at a level beyond dril’s own imagining.

cant wiat to see what devilish thanksgiving scenarios me and the boys of twitter can conjure up. “The turkey was taken by spiders? ? Whua??”

— wint (@dril) November 24, 2014

Together they can be silent guardians, watchful protectors, dark knights, defending boys both within and outside the circle from the depredations of rival groups.

me & the boys will be holding hands., forming a Covenant Ring, to protest girls who only want to fuck the main pirate from the pirate movies

— wint (@dril) June 4, 2017

the epic shit of 2017; is the boys getting TheSegaPimp fired from his job at The Red Cross for not wishing me a “Happy Halloween”

— wint (@dril) January 2, 2018

the boys are enjoying their fave jukebox when ths sarge steps in SARGE: TURN OFF THE DAMN JUKE BOX! ITS WAR ME: Fuck u sarge. The armys crap

— wint (@dril) July 7, 2015

Not every tweet about the boys made it into the book. This is fitting, as when they’re operating at full force, nothing can contain them. 

thje opening riff of “Life In The Fast Lane” repeats over and over forever while me and the boys shoot at a septic tank with airsoft rifles

— wint (@dril) August 1, 2014

me N’ the boys eating messy sandiwches, sneaking around with big binoculars looking for girls & letting every one know who runs this TJ maxx

— wint (@dril) July 21, 2016

So we come to the crux of the matter. Dril and the boys are the great love story of our time because their insecurities, their mania, are our time’s prime motivators.

Dril and the boys wallow in the same miasma from which all our era’s reactionary movements have emerged — the MAGAs and Pepes, MRAs and incels, GamerGaters and ComicsGaters, Sad Puppies and Proud Boys and all the other doofuses with unwittingly infantilizing sobriquets.

With “the boys,” the humorist behind dril has tapped into the overall vibe in this country that there exists, somewhere out there ― perhaps in a TJ Maxx ― a lost masculine ideal. No one agrees on what it is, least of all dril, whose psyche is as piecemeal as his punctuation. It could be yelling at NFL protesters to stand for the national anthem or screaming at Disney for committing white genocide in the “Star Wars” films. It could be having sex all the time or having no sex at all. It could be respecting the majesty of the law or flouting it or both, depending on whom the law is meant to penalize. It’s the nightmare superego-id hybrid, 10 pounds of Blue Lives Matter shit in a five-pound “Live free or die” bag.

When men fail to live up to the puritanical amorality of the boys, they’re less than men, which is to say — as women have a lifetime to learn — they’re less than human. Such men earn sexualized insults like “betas” and “cucks.” They’re reduced to contemptuous acronyms like “SJWs” and “NPCs.” They make the soy face. They listen to dad rock. This blend of macho aggression and childlike vulnerability cannot be resolved in the real world, where it results in a racist, revanchist, minority party controlling all branches of government and installing sexual predators in every available position of power yet still acting like the David to the Goliath of Me Too, female gamers and the theoretical casting of Idris Elba as James Bond.

me and the boys watching james bond morph into a black guy before our very eyes , and braying at the movie screen like distressed cattle

— wint (@dril) September 4, 2018

Dril and the boys reside in this all-American astral plane where the Large Son–Libtard civil war rages, where misandry is real and must be guarded against with magic spells. We recognize our own reality in their incoherent but nevertheless militant search for reasons to hoot and holler. As such, their romance presents us with an opportunity to convert the problematic into the pleasurable, just as surely as antihero dramas or even halfway decent kink.

In the world of dril and the boys, all the pride and greed and wrath and lust and envy and sloth and gluttony of the movements that have fouled the entire adult lives of multiple generations of Americans can be boiled down to a gaggle of morons screaming about toilets. It’s a beautiful fantasy, and like all fantasies, it’s as romantic as it is remote.

Sean T. Collins has written for The New York Times, Rolling Stone, Pitchfork, Esquire and Vulture. He and his partner, the cartoonist Julia Gfrörer, are the co-editors of the art and comics anthology Mirror Mirror II. They live with their children on Long Island in New York.

Source: https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/dril-and-the-boys-twitter_us_5bb66529e4b028e1fe3bfd71