There is so much you can do without having a life these days. The pot-smoking burnout seated amongst cockroach-infested bags of potato chips on a bed stained with semen from his own pornography-induced ejactulations no longer sums up the life of the societal drop-out living at home. It is a stereotype not to be erased from the collective unconscious, but augmented by technology. Because you'd be surprised what you can do with a computer that's not even half-way decent. If you want to know who could be having fun when you're not, it just might be those immature little shits with long hair and smirks who everyone likes to tell to "get a job".
The internet has changed a lot of things. One of the things it has done is it has allowed anyone with a broadband connection to be able to illegally download practically anything which can be digitized. Want movies? Don't feel like sneaking into the theater? A screener rip of it could be as little as 4 or 5 clicks away. Practically any movie which is popular, and most that aren't, are available and are being downloaded and seeded using the Bittorrent protocol at any given moment. Any album can be found in MP3 format via many venues. To an experienced loafer, the time between wanting to hear a song and actually listening to the song could be as little as several seconds, if he finds a fast person to start the download from right away on a P2P network. It's like he can will any song he wants into his presence, like his computer is a genie which summons media at his whim.
Non-losers know about at least some of this, but losers are the only ones with the time to enjoy the wide-availability of such things. When you were a kid, did you ever fantasize about having every Nintendo game ever? How about every Nintendo, Super Nintendo, Sega Genesis, Turbo Graphix 16, Game Gear, and Master System game ever? That's just for starters. It's all available, only a few clicks away, thanks to the wonderful people (many of them "losers") who created emulators. Losers can actually sit around and play these games, enjoy this almost limitless cornucopia of classic games, because they have time, which people working for a living don't have.
No, many don't have girlfriends. And this does bother some of them, quite a lot. But there is an almost limitless supply of any type of pornography imaginable. A vertiable galaxy of tits, cunts, humping, anal sex, thrusting, blowjobs, cocks, screaming orgasms and cumshots awaits the loafer. And no, he doesn't have to throw out the paper-towel he ejactulates into. Hell, he doesn't even need to have a paper towel. He can just let forth a stream of semen into the sea of plastic snack-food wrappings, soda cans, and empty bags of weed that cover the floor.
And what about knowledge? What can't a loafer with an internet connection learn? The internet is basically a deluge of information about any subject imaginable. For the curious seeker of information, the internet is heaven. Web-sites abound. eBooks are as obtainable as any other form of media. If the loafer prefers a "real" book, there's still the library. And he can read it any time he wants to. He doesn't have a schedule. He probably doesn't even know what day of the week it is, and he probably doesn't care.
That seems to be the thing that gets most people, the not caring part. The loafer is at best seen either as a sorry figure, perhaps the victim of some serious depression. Maybe he got bullied when he was a kid. Probably, most people think, he's just a creepy sociopath. Maybe they're all right, to an extent. But perhaps he once cared and learned to stop caring, and having done that, learned to like not caring, to quit worrying about the context of his being and to just be. And maybe you're not doing much better. Maybe you're keeping the society he barely lives in running, but maybe its just a scam. A sort of cosmic joke you've played on yourself. Maybe, as the Hindus think, all of "reality" is maya, or illusion. Maybe the loafer is in on the joke, and is laughing very heartily.
And that's another thing that loafers are prone to get into: the occult. Trees of life, underground metal music, alien conspiracies, UFOs, abysses, meditation and magick. Maybe all the information he's absorbed has caused him to see how it all cancels itself out, how for every point there's a counter-point. How there's some person, somewhere, who seems to be convinced of anything that can be thought of. How the Sumerians, the first people to write things down, thought they had lost their memories, and forgot what they were; how they thought this whole civilization thing was some kind of terrible punishment. Perhaps, in another reality, the loafer is fucking your sister, right now. Maybe the loafer thinks this whole reality thing is his own creation, and its sort of a really funny joke that he's played on himself. Maybe when no one's around, he smokes a joint and laughs to himself about it all.