Did Julian Assange Read "The Pickup Artist"?

The emails recently forwarded to Gawker reveal a man inept with people to the point of sociopathy. Described by the object of his affections as a "socially awkward nerd," he nevertheless sought to transcend this identity, either by hard work or sheer self-delusion. I can't help but see echoes of the teachings of the "seduction community" in these spirited overtures, although he forgot the most important one: do not, under any circumstances, appear to be trying too hard. It's like a real like mash-up of the Mystery Method and the D.E.N.N.I.S. System from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia.

"Negging," the process by which you cut down a girl's self esteem by giving her backhanded compliments and/or gently mocking her, thereby leaving her desirous of your approval, is a cornerstone of "the Method." Assange did this when he "jok[ed] about her mathematical ignorance;" she seems not to have minded. He attempted to do so again when expressing his disappointment in her lack of positive response, but as she was, by this point, utterly creeped out by him, it only made her like him even less.

This is when you wear or do something designed to draw people's attention and make women want to talk to you, if for no other reason than to ask why you are wearing a giant, penis shaped hat on your head. An in's an in, right? Bar tricks work, too. Assange's bar trick was "explaining complex equations," which, while dorky, seems pretty unoffensive. Unfortunately, his next "trick" was finding his intended's phone and license plate numbers, which failed to dazzle her with omniscience the way he had hoped.

A pick-up artist tries to get his "target" to chase him like a cat chases a string. Throw out just enough detail to make yourself intriguing, and she will work to find out more, or so the theory goes. Unfortunately, the "cat" Assange chose was actually a sentient human being, the "string" was his phone number, and the method of "chase" was decoding it from her personal information, which she'd previously thought to be private, so needless to say, this failed.

O Mystery, what hath thou wrought? A generation of shy, awkward nerds going around acting like they're Liam fucking Gallagher. At least when they were just regular nerds, they were nice. Now they have no redeeming qualities at all. In the name of Wikileaks, annoyed women, and hoodwinked men everywhere, I curse you. A plague on both your sideburns!