Surprise! It’s 2020 and Even Your Surround Sound System is Sexist
By: Ryan Scully
Tags: Nonfiction, Marketing, Humour, Gender Equality, Technology

I write this blog, not with the intention of enriching your existence — I mean, look at the damn title — but to instead stick an all-new spin on our collective, pandemic-induced whinging. Because honestly, the only thing more tiring than being stuck indoors all year is retreading the same old sentiments.

Not sure what I mean? Here’s a challenge: every time you see 2020 described as ‘unprecedented’, ‘troubling’ or ‘difficult’, stick a quid in the ‘Trope Jar’. By the time we’re out of lockdown, not only will the PlayStation 5 be back in widespread stock, you’ll have enough money to buy one. Assuming we’ve all stopped shagging with impunity, at least.

So I decided it’d be fun not to look ahead, but to look backwards; seemingly to some point in the 1960’s where we punctuated conversations with women by slapping them gently on the arse. Yes, while Sony might be bringing us into the technological future with their aforementioned PlayStation 5, they’ve only dragged us kicking and screaming a few decades backwards with the frankly unbelievable marketing spiel for their BDV-1000 Home Cinema system, which for my money is the most memorable discovery of 2020.

It’s impossible to know which of the two most common genders should be more offended by this bullshit: the men, who Sony believe are relying on their choice of speakers to get them laid; or the women, who are written here as doting, malleable simpletons. Either way, this astonishingly ill-conceived writeup appears to have missed every marketing memo since the early 70s and created something so puzzlingly, laughably outdated that every last word is worth analysis.

If you don’t believe any of this is real, here’s a link to the product’s own Amazon page. Brace yourselves. We’re going in.

“Your dating history over the last year could be written on a post‐it ‐ with room for a doodle. Let’s put this dating funk behind you. The wine’s chilled. The popcorn’s done. You’re rocking your favourite shirt. It’s time to bring the romance, big guy…” Sony first assumes that their target market is a gaggle of hopeless singletons, then patronises it further with their rudimentary dating advice. But if popcorn, wine and a good shirt are enough to impress a potential mate, said men are already punching further below their weight than anticipated. I mean, I get it: self-improvement takes effort. But it’s infinitely more rewarding than going for the first woman who fawns over an ironed shirt and some Butterkist. Or anyone still using the word ‘funk’ colloquially, Grandad.

I also took the liberty of adding a comma to that final sentence. You’re welcome.

“You both get comfortable on the sofa. She’s bound to be impressed with your 3D Blu‐ray Home Cinema system.”…

She would be if, like this marketing copy, she’d emerged from a 50-year coma with no reference of societal progress.

“ The opening credits roll. If you know women like you think do, then she’s going to love Die Hard.”

If I know any women like I think I do, I think they’ve had a 30-year window to watch Die Hard. They might even have done so without a man’s insistence, if you can believe that.

“With 5.1ch surround sound, the gunshots and explosions reverberate around the living room. Hans Gruber enters the fray, she moves closer and you seize the opportunity to sneak your arm around her.”

I can picture the man writing this nonsense perfectly; balding, twice divorced, and has never removed a CD of Genesis’ Greatest Hits from his glove compartment.

“So wisecracking John McClane isn’t her cup of tea? No big deal. How about music to set the mood? You touch your NFC smartphone against the Home Cinema system ‐ Barry White instantly booms out from the speakers. She won’t be able to resist. You stream a romantic playlist via BluetoothR: R‐Kelly, Luther and MJ. How about some Shabba Ranks to kick it up a notch?”

…And why not compliment your choice of R.Kelly and Michael Jackson with Ian Watkins’ band, the LostProphets? Might as well go the whole hog if your ‘romantic’ playlist is a laundry list of sex offenders. And no, Barry White can’t save you now: that cliche is so worn that you’ve already been laughed out of the room. And you live here.

“And here’s the clincher.”

My breath, she is bated.

“They say diamonds are a girl’s best friend, right? Draw her attention to the “sense of quartz” design ‐ it’s inspired by the cut‐glass edges and gleaming facets of rock crystal. Who needs Cartier?”

Do it. Draw her attention to it. Have her admire the cut-glass, rock crystal edges of your quartz-designed surround sound system. Do it with the pride of Patrick Bateman, proudly displaying his eggshell business cards to a room of equally vacuous sociopaths.

“She makes her excuses and finishes her glass of chardonnay. You think you’ve blown it, but she leans in for a kiss and hands you her number ‐ “yipikaye”.”

“Yipikaye” isn’t a number, you moron. And if this date ends in anything other than 50 unreturned phone calls, both you and your new girlfriend are at the very bottom of the romantic food chain. Congratulations – you’re the couple that brings nothing more to dinner parties than further cramped conditions at the dining table.