Posted on Wednesday, May 27, 2009
As the ships and service members depart New York City today, there is a sullen atmosphere hanging over the Big Apple. Is it the remembrance of those we’ve lost in the military over the past 90 years? The departing of our service men and women to far off dangerous places that they may never return? Having to return to the working life after a long weekend of drinking in the sun with friends and family? Possibly. But this cloud of doom seems to be hovering exclusively over the West side of Manhattan, eclipsing the usually brightly colored arch in the sky above the bars of Chelsea and the West Village. It is our homosexual brothers who are mourning once again, as they do every year at this time, over the loss of their seamen.
"…Don’t be afraid to let those colors shine…"
Although the Fleet Week activities provide telling metaphors for many of the “alpha-manly” demonstrations (21-gun salutes, arm wrestling tournaments, the phallic power of big boats spraying jets of water all over the Hudson), these are just the “official” expositions for the public. However, “unofficially,” these sailors are “exposing” themselves in other ways at night at the West Village's biggest gay bars. It’s no secret that these bars see huge amounts of patrons during Fleet Week (second only to Pride week), and the “don’t ask, don’t tell” military policy causes these drunk, young men who’ve been cooped up together for months, to get their shot at sexual release.
"…Show me yours. I'm gonna show you mine…"
“I fucking love Fleet Week,” states Bobby Jackson, ballet instructor and artistic director of the Bobby Ballet Dance Studio, “some of these closeted dudes really let it all hang out too. Some say it's close to the Piers where the ships dock, personally, I think the guys are cruising for blowjobs. I see it ever year, the kids get drunk, the guys get hot young men, and everyone forgets it ever happened. Like shooting fish in a barrel.”
"…If you find a pot of gold, every little thing is gonna work out fine…"
Many men that get left and heart broken, revert back to cruising Christopher Street wishing that every week could be Fleet Week. The depression that ensues is said to last for the entire year in some cases. Some men have even gone so far as to attempt to get a clinical appellation (Fleet Weak) to describe the mental sickness that drives them to becoming excited and let down all over again each and every year.
“They’re rough boy!” explains Steven O’Chessee, dancer, “I always hope to find my “The Way We Were” moment whenever they come into town. Like some Redford-esque guy who will sweep me off my feet…but it never happens. They always leave.”
"…A warm embrace and a kind-a hello…"
So what are the men of Manhattan to do about this constant annual occurrence that brings their spirits up to the sky, but in a week sends them crashing, dramatically into the sea?
“Look, people need to stop fucking whining, ok,” explains Jackson, “take it for what it is. We’re guys. We should be able to fuck each other without things getting complicated. Should be like a handshake for Christ’s sake. So enough with this “Fleet Weak” shit, wash your mouth out, and move on.”
"…reach inside your soul and learn your fellow. In the Fleet Week rainbow."
Posted on Friday, May 8, 2009
(MP) - In the age-old battle of the sexes, one of the biggest (if not THE biggest), complaints that women have about men is that they are only after one thing: their bodies. Some women like Susan B. Anthony and Gloria Steinem, have fought throughout history for suffrage, equality in the workplace, and the continuing struggle to be looked upon as intellectual equals, and not just sex objects to exploit. Other women, like Jenna Jameson, have used their bodies as tools to rise to the height of the business world, and once there, have changed gears and become formidable CEO’s and intellectual juggernauts in their own right. This past week the oldest woman alive spoke out for the respect that has eluded her for the past eight years. That woman is New York’s very own Statue of Liberty.
“When I saw Jenna Jameson on William Shatner’s talk show ‘Raw Nerve,’ explains Lady Liberty, “and she talked about her shocking decision to retire from porn, but continue to run her enterprise that is the strongest in her business, I became inspired. I related to her. People have been crawling in and out of my body for years, just like her, and I’m tired of it. It’s time they saw what my mind has to offer as well.”
The Statue of Liberty has welcomed visitors, immigrants, and returning Americans inside her ever since 1886, when France gifted the giant lady to the United States. The crown, however, has been closed to tourists ever since the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. But it seems that Lady Liberty’s pronouncement of no longer being seen just as a “body” has not fallen on deaf ears. The crown of the Statue of Liberty will re-open to tourists this July 4.
"We are once again inviting the public to celebrate our great nation,” explained Jacqueline Cufflinks, spokeswoman for the iron icon, “and the hope and opportunity it symbolizes by not just entering our Lady’s legs, and exploring her cavity like a mindless piece of ass, but also climbing to Lady Liberty's crown for a unique view of New York Harbor, and to see that she is just as smart, driven, and wise than any other male statue in the world.”
Reactions from women all around the country have been supportive and inspired.
“I thinks it’s great, you know,” opines Jeneane Menthol, mother of two, who has used her body in the past to get ahead, “I have a man now, so I don’t runs around no more, but who doesn’t want to be seens as smart? I’ll take my daughters there. I just wish we could enter her mouth first, you know? Then we can leave out of her body the way it’s dones in nature – out her hoo-ha.”
Access to the crown will be limited to 10 people at a time, but Lady Liberty sees that as a good thing.
“It will allow me to really talk to people, in the intimate setting that is my head, so I can have people focus on what I have to offer intellectually. But don’t get me wrong; I am a woman of the 21st century still. I can be everything I want to be. I still have needs and desires, so I won’t be closing my legs any time soon. You just have to also want to get into my head in order to have the whole experience that I have to offer. Just like my new heroine - Jenna Jameson.”
Posted on Wednesday, May 6, 2009
(MP) - When it comes to finding and relying on a courier service to get your package delivered on time, and in one piece, it’s very nerve racking to feel secure about choosing the right one. The USPS, FedEx, and UPS have cornered the market on shipping, but they have become increasingly careless as of late in regard to handling special packages. So when you need drugs that you promised your friend in college sent, or you really don’t want to drive into an unfriendly neighborhood, then whom can you turn to for that piece of mind?
“I don’t know anymore…” frets ‘The Weeze’, stoner, and off-off-off Broadway theater technician who would not reveal his name, “I never used to worry bout gettin’ ‘the kind’ from my buddies in VT. We’d do the Brown all the time. But then I heard what happened in Texas, and I just can’t trust them anymore. I can’t have my Northern Lights going to, like…somewhere else, you know?”
What “The Weeze” is referring to is the incident that took place in Denton, Texas earlier this year. A man from Denton, Texas was awaiting a delivery of tools that he had ordered from Sears, but was delivered a 30-pound marijuana brick with a street value of $10,500 instead. It seems that the delivery was intended for an address in Dallas, but UPS delivered it to the wrong destination.
“We still stand by our track record,” states Arizona Girth, long time UPS employee, “we deliver thousands of packages a day, every day, all year long. Something is bound to get lost in the mix. We’re only human. But our goofs are minimal. After the Denton fiasco, we’ve stepped up our address verifications, and have had a 90% approval rating on deliveries of all goods, and more specifically an increase in our drug trafficking, which is very positive for our growth.”
To compete with UPS, the USPS (which has joined forces with Mailboxes, Etc.) has just launched its “Be Kind Tiers” in all its locations across the country. They will take special care of higher valued packages, and even replace lost items as an insurance policy with G-4 marijuana strands of equal value to lost merchandise. The tiers range from the “Escobar Underground” for shipments that reach a certain weight capacity down to the “Social Toker” tier for those that fear facing an actual drug dealer in person.
“Wine is fine,” explains Cody Splendor, who was willing to record himself after receiving his “Escobar” package for promotional purposes for USPS’s “Be Kind” trial stages, “but knowing that I don’t have to go to a strange place for a solid, sweet strapper, and end up entwined in some mass sex situation with genitalia in my face is comforting for my anxiety. It’s being brought to my friends and I at a specific time and a specific place. I think the service is a fabulous success.”
Others around the country do as well, as USPS has recorded huge first and second quarter earnings for 2009. “The tier system is working solid ” reports Sully Builder, veteran postal worker, “deliveries are on time, numbers are up, salaries are up, postal suicide and mass execution rates are down…and everyone is happy and high. Can you think of a better system?”
Posted on Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Mayor Mike Bloomberg has finally had enough with the slow walking individuals that parade through his city on a daily basis. So, he’s doing something about it.
“It’s totally acceptable to come to the greatest city in the world and take in the sites, do some shopping, or go to the theater and what have you. But to violate certain unspoken rules when it comes to sidewalk etiquette is completely abhorrent,” said Mayor Bloomberg while being interviewed on the 6 train, en-route to city hall yesterday morning.
The Mayor feels that writing citations to individuals who show a blatant disregard for walking etiquette in Manhattan may just help keep our sidewalks a safe place for foot travel, and cut down on the self-contained hatred that most people feel for the slow walkers.
Walking Rage, a new disease coined by Dr. Daniel Rudinski of the Upper East Side, has been rearing its ugly head on many of our city’s busiest street corners. It is a quiet rage that burns within us, and can ruin our day, week, or even our faith in senior citizens, children and foreigners. Due to the polite nature that is inherent in all humans, we hold our tongue. The anger and frustration is then sent inward and can eat us alive, or send us to the offices of Dr. Rudinski at 711 East 84th street Apt. #5.
“If we had a horn, we’d honk it…but we don’t. If we were driving a jalopy maybe we’d bump them, but we’re not. If we were driving a really terrible jalopy with no horn, maybe we’d scream knowing that we were protected by a ton of steel, but yet again we’re not. We’re walking,” said a smiling Rudinski.
“As far as stories go, Dr. Rudinski has heard them all. “The corners that people hate, the stairways most stopped on for a shoe tie. I’ve heard them all. I know them all. And I’m helping them all.”
You could say that Dr. Rudinski is to Walking Rage what Dr. Zizmor is to acne. Two dynamic, dedicated individuals with a passion for self-promotion, and a calling they can’t deny.
“Dr. Daniel Rudinski has been paramount in bringing this issue to my attention,” said Mayor Bloomberg. “At first, I thought it was just me. I thought that I was over-reacting to being stuck behind someone with a cane when I’m in a rush, or having to fight my way past a caravan of Mommy’s with strollers on the upper west side. We’ve all had our situations. And as varied as they are, we all have one thing in common-we’re suffering. I think it’s about time that these individuals pay.”
The Slow Walking Laws and fines will include:
1) Stopping on the subway stairs for a shoe tie-fine $35. Stopping on the sidewalk for a shoe tie without proceeding to the curb or nearest building-fine $25.
2) Slow and labored movements while gazing at tall buildings-fine $45.
3) Handholding couples moving at a Sunday pace on weekdays-fine $60. Handholding couples giggling and skipping on weekends within close proximity to noticeably unhappy couples- fine $75. Handholding couples- fine $25.
4) The mid-sidewalk friend chat- fine $50.
5) The long goodbye in front of the subway stairs- fine $60. The long goodbye in front of the subway stairs during peak hours (7am-10am and 4pm-7pm Mon-Sun)- fine $100.
6) Moving slowly to watch your own reflection in a storefront window- fine $100.
7) Couples moving slowly to watch their own reflections in storefront windows- fine $200.
8) Complaining on your cell phone to a friend or relative, and moving from side to side making passing an impossibility- fine $100 and cell phone seizure.
9) Walking aggressively alone while wearing sunglasses, and pretending not to see others all the while forcing others to give up ground for you- fine $250.
10) Sashaying unnecessarily as if you are on a runway at any point in time - fine $75.
Bloomberg says this is just the beginning. Keep an eye out for more walking fines in the near future. To get an up to date listing of walking laws and fines, you can dial 311 at any time.
Posted on Tuesday, April 28, 2009
(MP) - The Federal Aviation Administration - apologizing for the Boeing 747, which took part in a classified, government-sanctioned photo shoot, and flew frighteningly close to the buildings of New York City, scaring it’s citizens – is now being accused of not just negligence by everyone from the mayor to the President - but lying as well. It has been revealed that the plane was actually out of the pilot’s control for a period of time, causing the 747 to veer so low into the building’s path.
“I saws the plane,” explains Jeanine Menthol, an eye witness who came into the city with her two daughters to enjoy the unusually warm April day, “and I almost shit my pants, ok? I thought it was another 9/11’s. My kids ran for cover, leaving me, and then I looked up and saw him. I thought he wasn’t real, but you can’t fake that kind of package.”
What Ms. Menthol is referring to is the appearance on the scene of the fabled Super Man-Thong. Dressed only in a thong, the underground vigilante is known for fighting crime throughout the tri-state area. No one has ever gotten a good look at the Jersey hero, but this time he flew down into the street to greet the press corps that arrived on the scene.
“Another job well done for Man-Thong,” explained the gallant hero, “by rerouting that plane I saved you all. This will show the ‘Allegiance’ once for all that just because I don’t like tan lines, doesn’t mean I can’t help people.”
Recent reports out of Cincinnati, Ohio have centered on the discovery of a real life super hero organization. Calling itself the “Allegiance of Heroes”, this team of vigilantes, made up of a group of men -- and one woman - communicate with one another in online forums, then don their uniforms and fight crime all over the country. Led by Cincinnati’s own - Shadowhare - the group consists of Aclyptico stationed in Pennsylvania, Wall Creeper in Colorado, Master Legend in Florida, and Mr. Extreme in California. However, one scantily clad super hero has been declined for membership in this extremely elite community, and that is New Jersey’s own – Super Man-Thong.
“We have very strict criteria to gain admittance into our alliance,” explained Shadowhare, who was abused as a child and grew up in foster homes, perhaps leading him to a life helping others,” it’s very clear in our by-laws – ‘The costume of a Real-Life Superhero must be of sufficient quality to show some care went into it's creation’- end of story. His costume is a mockery. We don’t need anyone laughing at us thinking that we are crazy or something.”
The crime fighters will often pair up to patrol the streets. However, none of them wish to be seen teaming up with the T’d Strung super hero. "We help enforce the law by doing what we can in legal standards, so we carry handcuffs, pepper spray … all the legal weapons," continued Shadowhare. "We will do citizen's arrests. We will intervene on crimes if there is one happening in front of us. He has nowhere to carry any of these crime-fighting gadgets. He constantly has me hold his wallet for him. Besides, that whole plane thing? He caused it to happen so he could save it so we would let him in!"
In a statement responding to these allegations, Super Man-Thong declared, “in no way did I put anyone in harms way. Shadowhare is a liar and a fraud. He suffered a dislocated shoulder two years ago while trying to help a woman who was being attacked. What kind of power is that? Tell me!! I can fly dammit!! I can shoot freaking laser beams out of my thong!! I can propel myself at the speed of light with my farts! How much more do I need to do to be a part of their group, huh? Huh?”
Posted on Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Menthol cigarettes have destroyed the lives of many. However, one New Jersey family owes their livelihood as well as their lung cancer to a very special brand: Manic Menthols.
Paul Menthol, known to his many friends as “Mr. Unfiltered”, loved to smoke his menthols so much that when he was laid off from his job as a Monmouth Beach Police Officer for perpetual tardiness, and drinking on the job, he approached Manic Menthol’s with an ingenious proposal. Paul Welton, as he was known at the time, walked into the Manic Menthol factory on East Freehold Road, and asked if they were interested in a lifetime of advertisement-literally.
“It was a wacky proposal, but one that made me ecstatic”, said Benjamin De la Soul, owner of Manic Menthol’s, and father of local entrepreneur, Roger De la Soul. “Imagine someone who loved smoking so much that they were willing to change their last name just in order to have a lifetime supply. It's quite beautiful, if you think about it. So, I jumped at the chance to pay Paul minimum wage for the rest of his life as long as he held true to his part of the bargain…and he did…and so did the entire Menthol family, including his daughter Jeanine. We are so proud of them all.”
Paul and his wife Elise embraced the Menthol lifestyle until they both fell victim to lung cancer in 1998. Paul passed on Thanksgiving Day, and Elise didn’t make it to see Christmas. The family was quite close, and they shared their love for each other almost as much as their love for Menthol’s.
Jeanine Menthol has been smoking her family issue menthol’s since 1984. She has never let her shallow breathing and chronic cough get in the way of her yogalates, or her search for the perfect rich Doctor. Spending most of her nights trolling the Seaside Boardwalk bars for a Staten Island Physician who might need some company, Jeanine Menthol, or “Mommy”, as she is known by those who love and admire her is a proud mother of two, and full time employee of Manic Menthol’s. She is revered as a pillar of the cigarette community.
“It’s amazing to have someone like Jeanine on our team. She continues to introduce more disenchanted teenagers to our product every day. With her white trash appeal, and superficial values she is a hit with kids from broken homes, and adults who suffer from a crippling sense of self-loathing. We love having her face as the face of Manic Menthol’s,” said Roger De La Soul. “She’s the best.”
When we caught up with Jeanine outside the Mid Way Cheese Steak Stand on the boardwalk as she slurped down a greasy hero, she only had this to say as she wiped some cheese whiz from her chin,"Mommy needs a Menthol."I guess Mommy knows what Mommy wants.
We can’t wait to see what Mommy Menthol offers up to the global cigarette community next.
Posted on Wednesday, April 22, 2009
(MP) - Today is Earth Day: a day to set aside and take stock in what we are doing to our planet EVERY OTHER day of the year. It is a day that all environmentalists hope that everyone in the world will become enamored with what is all around them, and begin to make a concentrated effort to love and to care for our mother Earth. Every year, one eco-friendly group, Manic Tree Huggers, goes into the woods of Northern California, and stages a “hug-in”, where they pick the tree of their choice, wrap their arms around it, and engage in one giant hug-of-war. However, this particular protest caught one eco-striver off guard.
“We all entered the area,” explains Barry Dud, founder of Compost Orgy, one time a dismissed sexually deviant sub-culture of the environmentalist movement, but has now seen spikes in memberships and functions in the last 8 years, “and we spread out under this beautiful canopy of branches and leaves. I was looking for what seemed like forever for my tree, and then one finally entranced me. When I went to touch it, this crazy naked man ran out of the bushes and pointed a Winchester rifle right in my face!”
In a report later filed by California State Troopers, Dud reported that he had recognized the naked man as Clarence Ogle, a “hugger” from a North Dakota faction that had mysteriously disappeared 8 years ago.
“I knew it was him,” explained Dud, “and I said, ‘Clarence? Is that you?’ and he just kept yelling at us all, saying to stay away from his woman, that she was his, she loved him, and that he didn’t know who the hell Clarence Ogle was – that his name was Erogenous Sticks. He kept just saying that – Erogenous Sticks, Erogenous Sticks, My name’s Erogenous Sticks!”
Dud also testified that when the group had been driven from the area, an eye witness, Mindy Greensteen from New York, went back to discover Sticks fornicating the bark of the beguiling arbor.
“It was actually quite beautiful. I never got any sense that what he was doing was anything dirty,” explains Mindy Greensteen, “he was being so sweet with her. He was running his fingers through her leaves, telling her that he loved her, I genuinely got the impression that he had really fallen in love with this…tree.”
“He had been bewitched by the siren sounds of the wind in her leaves,” muses Dud, “so with our protest pretty much a bust, and half of our group deciding to call it a day, and the erotic nature of the whole experience; the remaining six of us that were single and committed to the cause decided to find the nearest compost pile and start pleasuring one another no matter what we looked like to each other – fat, thin, ugly, cute. I mean, love and pleasure are one in the same on Earth Day. I think that’s what we took away from Clare- I mean, Erogenous - It seems that love can come in all shapes, sizes, species, and…perennial woody plants!”
Posted on Wednesday, April 8, 2009
(MP) - Father John Paul Hanselswift pushed send on his blackberry storm for the last time from the pulpit of St. Agnes Parish, in Bonsonville, Missouri. The “accident”, (as it is being referred to by the Arch Diocese of Bonsonville), will be sure to send after-shocks through the parish for years to come.
The 8:00 pm mass on Tuesday nights is usually pretty quiet-reserved mostly for widows, and quiet, well-dressed creepy men in their forties who are forced to come by the women they live with: their mothers. However, this Tuesday happened to be the anniversary of the death of local football hero, Ted Downing. Even though Downing passed away 17 years ago under bizarre and questionable circumstances on the St. Agnes swing set with an under-age girl, he was revered as a great role model and pillar of the community. That being said, the Ted Downing Memorial Mass was always quite full.
Standing in front of his parishioners never made Father John nervous. He was always comfortable. So comfortable that he felt succumbing to, “Idol Fever”, and texting in his vote for his favorite American Idol contestant, Adam Lambert, during his sermon, would be no problem at all. Hanselswift knew Lambert would need his help because while following the internet feed on mute, he saw that host, Ryan Seacrest, was unable to keep the show moving along, and went 8 minutes over. Lambert, the crowd favorite, was slotted with the “pimp slot” (the shows closer), and sang his heart out with his Tears for Fears cover, Mad World, to a studio audience only. The rest of the channel 5 audience was already being introduced to a word from the sponsors , by the time Lambert took the stage. As Hanselswift said “Amen” he pushed “send” hoping to fill his vote with that of the Holy Spirit. What Father John Paul didn’t realize was that in his excitement he had only prayed 1-800-IDOL, and hadn’t typed in the numbers. He had merely sent a naked photograph of himself in leather with a ball-gag in his mouth to his entire congregation, using the “send to all” option.
“There were a lot of folks there. A lot of folks found themselves quite upset by it. I’m not going to sugar coat it. It was pretty upsetting", said Amel Lukaewicz, parish elder. “People used to keep their phones off at church but with the 'Idol Fever' going on out there... well…Father John wasn’t the only one trying to send his vote in.”
Being close to your parish comes with the territory of being a good priest. Father John had the cell phone numbers of mostly everyone that had ever been on a church committee, followed him on twitter, or sent him an email. He liked being connected to everyone, and being able to reach out in a moments notice, even when he was spending time with friends in Ibiza. He had probably only fantasized about alter boys getting a good look at his genitals, and never imagined it could actually happen.
Father John was unavailable for comment, according to the Bonsonville Diocese. The only statement released by the Diocese was the following: “We are very sorry that you had to see Father John in this way. We are in agreement that Father John is a sexual deviant, and he will be removed form the parish effective immediately. We will be re-assigning him to serve the people of St. Jerome’s which is a full 20 minutes from Bonsonville. He will only be able to reach you and your children through text messaging, the Internet, and if he’s feeling energetic, a long-distance bike ride on a sunny Saturday afternoon. We hope you can now rest knowing that we will be bringing in Father Philip, who himself, is being re-assigned for suspect behavior at a parish roller rink party in North Bergen. Thank you for remaining good Catholics during this trying time.”
Posted on Friday, April 3, 2009
Barry Tennison prefers the simple life: an insurance actuary by day, and a devoted husband come nightfall.
Passing his days with ease wasn’t always second nature for Barry-there was a time when hedonism, and excessive perversions controlled his every move. It wasn’t until Barry settled down with his Grandmother’s Mink Hat that he found solitude, companionship, and a reason for living.
On March 27, 2009, Mr. Tennison wed his deceased Grandmothers Mink Hat on an archipelago, off the coast of Dubai. With a Minister, Ben Habig, (hired from Craig’s List), and childhood friend, Whitney Prendergast, in attendance, Barry pledged himself forever faithful to “Nana’s Socket.”
“I cried. I truly cried,” said Whitney. “I mean you should have seen him before he realized that masturbating in Nana’s Socket was the only thing that really made him happy…truly happy. He was a mess. There was drinking, prostitutes … he had no job. It wasn’t a good time.”
After speaking with Mr. Prendergast, an independently wealthy chess champion living on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, we too were convinced that there was no other road to recovery for Barry. “Trying to fit in can be the most difficult thing in the world when you’re in love with an inanimate object,” Whitney explained. “If more people pledged their faith to the inanimate objects they are bound to, maybe they wouldn’t be so upset. I heard a man in Canada married himself last year. Life doesn’t have to be so difficult.“
The scene couldn’t have been more picturesque: an archipelago shaped like a Palm Tree in a hot-bed for human trafficking, two life-long friends, a minister with an online degree, and an eternal love for a Grandmother's Mink Hat.
After the ceremony, Barry held a gentle smile firm to his face, and asked for a moment alone with “Nana”, referring to the frayed mink hat fondly. Before parting, (in search of duty free items at the hotel gift shop), we asked Barry how he felt. He replied simply: “Blessed.”
It takes a brave spirit and a simple soul to chase down a dream. Barry Tennison seemed to embody both as he affectionately caressed Nana’s Socket gazing at the sunset over the Persian Gulf.
Posted on Thursday, April 2, 2009
Jim Bartone, formerly Jim Bartone-Potts, is an active father of three and creator of the popular nutritional supplement, The Emasculated Male Energy Drink, or The Big “EMED”, as it is known to it’s many faithful followers.
Just three years ago, Jim found himself a shell of a human being stuck in a hopeless marriage to Judy Potts: PTA (Parent Teacher Association) President, Bowling Coach, Jazzercise Expert, Corporate Lawyer, Backseat Driver, and skilled Emasculator.
Jim and Judy met at Memory Lanes Bowling Alley in Red Bank, NJ on a quiet night in the fall of 1996. Jim was throwing a few games to blow off some steam after a rough day at the office-he was working as a mortgage broker in the offices of Bingham Coolidge, in Red Bank. Judy was working as a bowling coach to earn some extra cash for a Vespa she’d been hoping to buy for herself. Judy, a self-taught and self-proclaimed master of the Lanes, preferred to be called by the nickname, Pentagon, (a name she had given herself one afternoon while staring at her reflection in the mirror), while on the clock at the alley.
Jim was having a rough night with the pins, and Judy was teaching Rory Tunkorfson, local youth bowling champion a few tips in the next lane. Taking notice of Jim’s struggles, Judy, Pentagon rather, stepped in with some down-home advice: she walked over, took the ball out of Jim’s hand, and showed him how it was done.
Smitten by The Pentagon’s take charge nature on such a low energy day, Jim was happy to give her a lift home when she asked so sweetly, all the while making sure to be out of view of other patrons who might catch her in a vulnerable moment. The drive home and the sex that followed were a success.
Three children and 10 years later, Bill began to notice that he had lost himself in the Pentagon, and was void of opinions of his own. “I hadn’t made a joint decision with Judy Potts since we decided to wed in the spring, of 1997. I hadn’t hung out with my friends since the Horde Tour in 1998. I hadn’t smoked a cigarette since the last one I bummed off Bobby Jackson in front of Memory Lanes in 1996. My children were not allowed to take orders from me. I had been deemed an unfit parent because of my taste in Hollywood women and past relationships with recreational drugs. I was sperm walking … without a say in the world. It was pretty damn scary,” explained Jim.
It was at that moment in time that Bill decided to lose the hyphen from his last name and re-claim some sense of decency and self worth. By joining forces with Vitamin Giant, Parthenon pharmaceuticals, Jim Bartone was able to create The Big “EMED”.
“EMED changed my life. And it’s changing the lives of millions of men daily. People are holding EMED parties and getting real fired up about their next moves. You know we hear a lot about women in bad relationships, but what we don’t hear about are all the men out there who are being beaten down by their wives…physically as well as mentally. It’s pretty scary stuff. EMED isn’t a rally against females-it’s a necessary elixir to find that healthy balance,” said Jim.
EMED can be purchased at GNC, The Vitamin Shoppe, Trader Joe’s, Costco and some participating Food Town Stores. Just a quick tip: you can get tremendous savings by buying it in bulk at Trader Joe’s.
So if you’re a big push over who does whatever your wife tells you, and allows her to spend all of your money because you think she’s hot, or you might have great sex: think again. Some day gravity will find you both, and by that time you may not have the energy to grab for the EMED.
Be Gentlemen: Escape The Vulva Denta.
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