Ali MacLean

I am lucky enough to be invited to lots of interesting events from the most rocking concerts to fringe to freak flag waving nights of hedonism. Sometimes, though it may be a bit off topic for me, I am offered a curiosity I just can’t pass up on.

My friend, Harmon Leon, is the brilliant and warped mind behind Strike TV’s Infiltrator and Freedom Haters. As you might remember, I wrote an essay on the Hollywood dream for his book American Dream. I also played his tacky girlfriend in a brilliant Infiltrator piece on gun control which you can read about here.

From time to time Harmon and I will chat about what projects we are working on or events we are covering:

ME: I’m going to interview Wolfmother this weekend. How about you?

HARMON: Oh, I’m going to Vegas to join ‘Hookers for Jesus’ for the weekend.

Say wha? Well, no offense to the Cosmic Egg dudes but that kinda trumps my rock journo dealio. No question.

So when Harmon had to preach to sinners and hand out bibles in casinos with former ladies of the night, I gladly stepped in for him when he couldn’t be in LA for the 2009 PUA World Summit. That’s PUA, as in: Pick Up Artist. A whole hotel convention ball room filled with pick up artists running their ‘game’ on girls and spreading the word on how to land birds. Um, yeah. I have to go.

With Harmon’s best wishes and a little Hooker Jesus prayer, I tarted myself up in my tiger dress and went to the Renaissance hotel.  I thought about this move and knew I had two options. Wear three multi-media Cosby sweaters and glasses and make it easy for them to talk to me as an asexual journalist…or basically go dressed as a blow up doll personified and see if they can contain themselves long enough to make a slimeless impression on the world. Yes, I knew I was throwing myself to the wolves, but it’s what we embedded journalists do. We put ourselves in harms way for the story. I braced myself for the onslaught of Drakkar Noir.

I checked in as Harmon’s replacement – he being a columnist for Penthouse, and whipped out my little flip camera. I was a bit concerned I was going to be shunned – I thought I would be seen as the enemy seeing as I had ovaries and all, but I was greeted with open arms, a gift bag filled with k-y jelly and condoms, and lots of pick up lines. Someone thought their game was going to work and work fast.

I met with the PUA summit founder Vince Kelvin and he introduced me to a few of the speakers, Hypnotica, Speer, Mehow and Sexual Chocolate who all proceeded to tell me that they were NOT like Mystery and the OLD game. That was about trying to trick a woman into bed. Boo to that. The real purpose of this weekend’s conference was to help men become better men so that they could be better for us women.

Wow, that’s like just what I wanted to hear. Because I’d be a bit turned off if they were trying to pick me up or trying to just get me into bed. But I can really get behind a bunch of guys who are trying to improve their lives and be better for me. I guess I had this whole ‘pick up artist’ and ‘game’ scene wrong. Mea culpa.

True, the tables of ‘Cassanova Crew’ tees, Affliction and Ed Hardy clothes racks, and flyers promising to be part of the ‘pussy pounding posse’ didn’t quite match what they were telling me. But when I brought this up to them, I was told that all the merch was just promotional to get the guys in the door. Once the dudes were in the door, that’s when the real healing and transformation began. It was set up that way. For us women. For women all over the world.

It was very educational. From learning about how to loosen a girl up, to discovering that the holy spirit is actually spunk – I can only imagine the knowledge passed on to the guys who went through the whole weekend master class.

I’ve included some clips of my conversations below complete with bits of NLP, subliminal anchoring via touch and speech patterns, and blatant inappropriate flirting. And yes, I did get asked out on a couple dates. They seemed really nice. I think they’d like me even if I was wearing a big ole Cosby sweater. Should I go?