A scintilliating look at cooling systems and their place in today’s modern society. I’d like to thank my dear friend, Mr Reginald Tou for contributing to this piece. That we may one day find common ground regarding this volatile issue, is a dream too fragile to cling to. We hope to cover other such important issues in the future.
(Basically the result of a heated discussion on what kind of articles a magazine called ‘Fans Today’ might contain.)
Fans Versus A/C : Chill out
Fans, or to give them their proper title of ‘Rotary air flow adjustment mechanisms’, fuck me right off. Many times in my rather extraordinary life I have been in dire need of some external mechanism to reduce my body temperature, and fans have only served to piss me off to such a degree where I end up dying because of sheer, undiluted RAGE. My name is Reginald Tou, and this is my story.
It was a blistering day, somewhere deep in the sweaty pits of summer. In London, the temperature reached the magical figure of 40 degrees, and the entire country went bat-shit crazy, with tens of thousands of pasty white Brits flapping their bingo wings to the nearest beach to get their fill of skin cancer. Apart from me.
Now, y’see, there’s something that you need to know about me in order to fully comprehend this story. I used to play World of Warcraft. I used to watch anime. I used to be the biggest fucking nerd this side of Bognor-Regis. And on this day, whilst trawling the internet for my daily haul of ‘Tit-magic-loli: Megavagina chronicles Super 87’, I notice a couple of things, more or less simultaneously.
1 – I’m wearing tight jeans.
2 – My ass is sweating.
3 – I’m sitting on a leather armchair.
4 – My ASS is sweating on a motherfucking LEATHER armchair.
Now, I’m not a scientist, but I can see this becoming a real big problem, real fucking fast. Of course, since I live in England (which is, pretty much, cold) we don’t have an air conditioner, but instead we have about a million fans lined all over the house, suckin’ power like Twilight sucks the decency out of any teenage girl in a 10 mile radius. Now, you’re sitting there wondering where this could possibly be going. I have a sweaty arse, and there are enough fans to start a typhoon on the moon, so surely I just park myself in front of one, right?
I mean, there are many things with that solution, but chiefly the problem of how I explain to passers by the reason why I’m standing right in front of a fan, thus depriving them of precious air flow. Also, why the entire room smells of my ASS. So what do I do? Because dude, I’ve got a raid in 10, and if I don’t show my DKP is gonna be fuckin’ negative, and I’m just not willing to let that shit go down (I’m talking about World of Warcraft here). I’ll tell you what I do. I stay seated, do my raid, and think happy thoughts while the leather armchair tries to glue itself to my – now molten – posterior. Fuck you, fans. Fuck you. We didn’t even get any rogue loot and I had to use three bars of soap in the shower after. I smelt like a Dove factory afterwards, but I couldn’t wash away the Goddamn shame of it all.
Now, A/C systems wouldn’t let this happen. No, instead of basically blowing hot air straight into your face/arse while you force yourself to believe it’s actually cooling your body in any way shape or form, they just nuke the entire room with cold. It’s basically what would happen if you ever wrenched the ice Queen’s corset open. Except you wouldn’t get frostbite on your wang. By cooling the entire room, one person drying their arse/whatever obscure and hilarious body part by standing in front of the cooling facility doesn’t impede others’ enjoyment of the cooling facility. We can all be cool brothers and sisters in an air con paradise, rather than poisoning each other’s Pimm’s in order to claim the £12 Argos fan which doesn’t really turn properly.
What about the environment? Fuck the environment, that’s what. Global warming, pfft, just get a couple million A/C units, juice them on full and cool the Earth right back to the ice age. A/C creates the problem and then fixes it like a champ because it’s like that. It’ll fuck you, but it’ll make you eggs in the morning. Not like a fan. If a fan were a guy, it’d be the one that gets a handjob in the middle of the dancefloor and then runs off into the night, like pervert Batman.
So there you go. A/C: CHILL OUT.
A/C vs Fans: A/C can suck my dick
Know why? That shit dries out your complexion and makes your throat hurt. It costs too much money for A/C. And the units are ugly (look at this bulky motherfucker). Fans are pretty. They’re cheap and portable. You can get super strong ones nowadays. Like some next, industrial level shit. Also fans are safer for the environment, hello? I am a caring sort of person, I recycle and daydream about owning a Prius, therefore preserving the planet for a generation of people who will probably be too stupid and fat and de-evolved to appreciate it. That is just who I am. But mainly, I prefer fans because I am biased about A/C due to what happened to me last summer. Are you sitting comfortably? I shall tell you a tale.
Even though we have the sea and shit in England, too, it was decided that my family and I would all go out to the Caribbean for a ‘little break’ (while we are on the subject why is it when people are on holiday in ‘exotic places’, all they ever do is walk around pretending to be impressed by different beaches and nap?).
Anyway, in every room of our apartment there was an A/C unit. And as they were externally controlled, they were always on. Now, having the constitution of a child recently recovering from Polio, it took only about 5 days for me to contract some kind of awful virus from the constant bone chilling breeze. To say this was the flu would be like calling the Mahmudiyah killings ‘kind of uncool’. A big ol’ bloated understatement of biblical proportions. I experienced fits of delirium during which I was sure my skin was peeling off. I sweated constantly, like a pedophile on Dateline. My body seemed to have made a bet with itself that it couldn’t cough up my lungs. Once, on my hourly shuffle to the bathroom for another 10 minutes of pointless retching, I noted, in a nearby mirror, that my pallor would probably have made Linda Blair blanch. Finally, after lamenting the fact that I was unsavvy enough to somehow get a cold virus on an island that boasts a year round tropical climate, the hotel owner referred us to a local doctor who gave me a stockpile of antibiotics and said that the illness had most likely been contracted through airborne bacterium. Courtesy of the A/C unit in my room. And that’s why air conditioning can go fuck itself.
P.S Alan Cumming for I don’t care if you wouldn’t, I would. R U chicken?!