Rockwell, a vintage synthesizer and an ’80s pop song walk into a bar.
“Can the people on TV see me?” asked Rockwell. “Or am I just paranoid?”
Bartender: “It’s a TV, man. What can I get you to drink?”
“I always feel like somebody’s watching me,” Rockwell said. “Tell me is it just a dream?”
Bartender: “Aren’t you Berry Gordy’s kid, from Motown records? Shit yeah, drink’s on me. Here’s a Mind Eraser with a zest of Mexican Valium. Some call it a date-rape drug, but I call it a roll-and-fall. You sound like you could use an old-fashioned, drug-induced coma.”
“When I’m in the shower, I’m afraid to wash my hair, ’cause I might open my eyes and find someone standing there,” Rockwell continued, tipping back his glass.
In walks Tinder.
“I’m here to eat cotton candy and snake the license to Rockwell’s 1984 paranoid hit ‘Somebody’s Watching Me’ for a new advertising campaign. I know Rockwell’s here; he forgot to turn off Tinder Places. And I’m all out of cotton candy.”
Bartender, pointing to the floor: “Have at it. He’s out.”
As Tinder pickpocketed Rockwell’s music catalogue, Bumble walked in and sucked a bunch of data out of it and sold it to Grindr. (Tinder forgot to turn off Places, too.)
What have we learned today, children? Turn off Tinder Places. (And that I can still tell a ripping fine tangent-laden yarn.)
I don’t know squiggly dick about Tinder because I’m all ball-and-chained up, but I learned that the dating app just released Tinder Places, a tracking feature for potential suitors to follow as you juggle mundane life activities.
“Stalk,” for the layperson.
Taking your dog for a walk around City Park? Smashing drunk Taco Bell at 4 a.m.? Bought hemorrhoid cream and a pregnancy test from the Dollar Tree? Took a load off in the Macy’s toilet while shopping?
Never fear. Bachelor No. 1 is here: “Hell yeah, Empress Brosephine, late-night Taco Bell totally also had me taking a shit at Macy’s. Let’s go to Jared.”
It’s Tinder, with a “missed-connection” vibe. Only it digitally geolocates you and turns you into a patriarchal totalitarianism dystopia plot. It won’t end well. Bitches will cry, because, well, torturing women is trending. (A handmaid goes wild.)
The internet tells me Tinder Places has an opt-in feature and that users can shut it on or off. But unlike traditional social media “check-in” platforms, Tinder Places continuously tracks the users’ every move — save for doctors, banks, work and home, etc.
Don’t you “whew” just yet. The bachelor’s Alexa already talked to your Alexa, and she told him where you live and that you are currently masturbating violently in the shower. He’s on his way with lube. (Every kiss begins with Kay-Y jelly.)
“Who’s watching? Tell me who’s watching. Who’s watching me?”
They all are, Rockwell, they all are. Bottom’s up.