The 5 Most Narcissistic Products You Won't Believe Exist
Psst! You! Yeah, you, the person reading this article. I come bearing ill news: You have been found out. You may as well emerge from your lair of self-aggrandizing Instagram pics and humblebraggart Facebook posts, because we all know the truth: You're a total narcissist.
The good news is that you're not alone. Thanks to social media and other wonderful options for self-promotion that a modern first world citizen has at their disposal, pretty much everyone is a narcissist these days. Your friends, your family, your co-workers, everyone. Hell, despite being an oft-pantsless Internet comedian with headbanger hair and a beard that looks like a fist that didn't listen to medieval masturbation warnings, I myself am often unable to pass a mirror without checking out what to my eyes is "the goods," but to everyone else is "Holy crap, the last awesome picture of this guy must have been taken when he was still a baby."
To be fair, they are fucking correct.
So, now that the cat's out of the bag and busy admiring itself, wouldn't it be time to completely indulge in your full glory? Come, friend, lay off the puny apps and senseless self-shills -- there's a whole world of narcissist-aimed products out there, fully fitted for admiring the perfection that is you.
Have you ever popped out to grab some toilet paper and a Snickers, only to have your peaceful errand run rudely interrupted by a total lack of intruding photographers? Isn't it just the worst? You keep fighting the situation, you keep running, you even clock a dude Sean Penn-style, but the paparazzi just are not there. It's almost like they don't give a good goddamn about you, just because you technically don't fit society's arbitrary limits of being someone the general populace is somewhat aware of.
At least, that's how the world used to be. Luckily, we live in a glorious era where this, like many other wonderfully me-centric things, can be taken care of with good old-fashioned dough. Yes, I'm saying you can totally hire a bunch of paparazzi to follow you around, documenting your day with their trademark finesse (they'll stalk you like the meal ticket that you are and take snapshots any which way they can).
Even when you're in the bathroom. Especially in the bathroom.
It turns out that shady photographer folks work for money, and if they're not busy hiding in the bushes in case Jennifer Lawrence's dress explodes on her way to her car or whatever, they're all too happy to cut the middleman and accept your check for doing more or less what they'd be doing anyway. Sellsword paparazzi companies offer several different packages, all custom designed to make you feel important enough to be stalked by the worst profession in the world. The options they offer range from stalking your party/wedding guests (who will surely scream in adoration when half a dozen human vermin spread into the fray and spend two hours trying to get upskirt photos of everyone) to the full "rock star" treatment, where they flat-out stalk you around town, waiting for you with their flashes flashin' wherever you show up.
This is their "get enough flashes around you and no one will notice how bad your cosplay game is" package.
And at the end of the day, you'll get the pictures they took for yourself. After all, the paparazzi are moral creatures and certainly won't keep any copies of the more embarrassing ones to themselves on the off chance that you one day make it big.
Dinner parties are often problematic for a true narcissist. They tend to include people who aren't you, and who want to speak of things other than you. Sure, you can maximize the attention you get by hosting the party, but this presents another problem: Eventually the conversation is going to drift to the food. Yes, once again, comestibles attempt to steal your thunder, posing and pouting to capture your guests' attentions like the hussies they clearly are. "This mash is delicious," people say. "How did you get that roast to stay so delightfully moist?" "Holy crap, is that a human tooth?" Food, food, all about food.
Well, fuck food. There's a way to steal the limelight right back, and that's by making the food all about you. Remember to not do this by preaching the Eucharist of you, though -- that "bread and wine, body and blood" stuff is only going to end you up in a padded place with little to no mirrors (though if you're lucky, you might wind up with your very own cult).
No, there's no need for any of that, for there is a much more elegant way to feed people the glory of yourself:
Well, I say elegant ...
Yes. Yes. Good. Let your entourage feast with goddamn chocolates shaped like your face, and let them enjoy it. Thanks to 3D printing technology, several companies offer the option of modeling chocolate into the shape of your glorious visage. Granted, the results range from relatively accurate to vaguely unsettling ...
"Hello! Have you heard about Y'Shoggo, our dark lord and savior? We all die for his sins."
... to really unsettling:
"Witness us. Witness us."
Still, who cares? They're chocolates with your face on them, and therefore the best thing in the world. Wait, why is everyone at the table screaming?
Sex. It's just the best, isn't it?
Yes and no! Boning in itself is fine and all, but have you ever thought about what you truly enjoy when it comes to erotic happenstances? Who's the person that is the absolute unbeatable expert on all things that you enjoy? Even those really weird fetishes you try not to think about?
Oooohhhh yeahhhh. That hits the spot.
That's right -- it's you! So why are you wasting time lusting after all those inferior people? Sure, evolution is at play here, conniving to keep your attention away from traditional ... um, self-appreciation, and driving you toward what fools call a meaningful sexual relationship, with actual partners and all that jazz.
So why not make sure that your future sex partner is the most attractive person on the planet? By which I mean, just pay a lot of cash for people to craft sex dolls in your likeness.
It's ... it's magnificent.
It's no secret that fully customizable sex dolls have been a thing for a while now. However, many a horny dude looking to create a specific celebrity in latex and oddly ribbed orifices has been disappointed to find out that the manufacturers outright refuse to make screw-mannequins of a specific person's likeness (although they're apparently just fine with fixing you up with a close approximation). The only exception they're willing to make is if the person who's about to be turned into a glorified blow-up doll will give their permission and agree to a fairly intimate full-body scanning process to ensure realistic proportions. Hey, you know who's not in the slightest ashamed of showing their glorious body and would also totally give permission for such a thing? You, that's who! Go nuts, baby, get under the scanner and order the you-doll of your dreams! Hell, order several while you're at it; no need to be a prude, for variety is the spice of life. Just have them stick your face on a whole bunch of fake bodies of all shapes and gender assignations; it's fine, and totally not insane in any way at all.
Even if your new mannequin harem somehow isn't enough and you wind up allowing some inferior other person in the vicinity of your magnificent pelvic area, worry not! Just fix 'em up with an intricate 3D mask of your face, and you can continue to maintain your streak of self-shagging. So go, run to the mountains and hide, for that is your only slim chance to avoid drowning under the veritable buffet of you-themed sexytime the world is going to throw at you from now on.
Congratulations! You've finally shown who's in charge when it comes to sex, food, and public appearances. It's time to tune things down a bit. Sit back and relax, maybe sip some quality scotch and admire yourself from every reflective surface in the house ...
... wait, crap. This place has barely any reflective surfaces, has it? Like, over 90 percent of its walls and ceiling is covered in boring paint and wallpaper, and no matter how many mirrors and pictures of yourself you keep putting up, they just can't seem to cover it all. This shit will not do. What you need is a mirror house.
And maybe a bunch of stones to throw around during bad hair days.
The very definition of blending in.
Some are built in motherfucking trees, because once you start building things out of reflective glass, things like sanity and basic logic do little to inhibit your creativity:
As a bonus, if you turn off the bird warning system, you'll never have to worry about food again.
Sure, they all claim to use the reflective surface to better "blend in with the nature," but let's face the facts: Clearly, like all mirrors, they're at their best when used to peer at yourself. Still, despite their obvious benefits, there's a glaring flaw in most of these buildings: Sure, they're hot shit when it comes to showing your reflection from every direction while you're outside them, but what can they do for you when you're indoors? Aren't they just the same, boring reflectionless fucks as your current place?
No, they aren't. At least, not for long. Here, friend, have some mirror wallpaper.
Your Face on Fucking Everything
Now that everything is mirrors, it's easy to start thinking you've got everything you need for some serious narcissism. This is inaccurate. Many people who only think they love themselves have stopped here, and have you ever heard of them? Of course you haven't, unless someone has complained about the smell and the cops have barged into their homes, finding them mummified in the middle of their completely reflective bedrooms surrounded by a dozen sex dolls bearing their stupid ogre faces, their digestive systems failed after attempting to subsist on nothing but stupid-ogre-face chocolate.
It's time to take the final step: You must now complement your sublime existence by sticking your face on fucking everything.
3D printing, which has already come in handy in our quest to help you become the shining example of humanity you clearly are (and yet another warning example to all the false narcissists out there), comes to our rescue once again. There are places on the Internet where you can get your mug attached to pretty much everything. Want a bust of yourself, or 16? Can be done! Five hundred action figures all bearing your admirable features? No problem! And that's just scratching the surface. Here, go nuts and order a bunch of bowl-statues with a skullcap that can be lifted off to reveal your brain:
The world will see your cranial capacity and find it lacking.
Or take back some space from all the mirrors (after all, it's not like you can look at all of them at once) and cover a room or six with giant papier-mache you-masks:
Yes. Yes. Let the unworthy gaze upon your true form.
Or, shit, just buy a giant 3D printer yourself and make everything you, up to and including the furniture. Order it all. Fill your mirror house to the brim with homages to your life, so that you never ever have to leave again. You're one with the world now, and the world is you. There is no need to leave. There is no need to love. There is only you. Forever.
And if I keep creating enough of these scenarios, maybe future archaeologists will find some of these sites and recoil in horror. Then maybe they'll go back in time and steer you away from your dangerous path of self-admiration. After all, you have better things to worship, because, as the whole future will certainly know, I was the prettiest all along.
Pauli Poisuo is a Cracked columnist, a freelance editor, and totally not in the process of constructing over 5,000 mirror house tombs as we speak. Follow him on Twitter.