That’s right, you heard me correctly. Ole Merle is swearing off sex! Arlene and Doris are going to have to fend for themselves from now on cause I’ve had it! It’s just not worth it anymore, what with all the pre-game preparation, medication and such! The game’s rigged and designed to wipe us fellers right off the face of the earth or worse!
It all started yesterday at Walmart. I was at the Walmart in Dyersville to “Bulk up” as I call it. You know, buy my 25 lb multi-pack, four ply, extra strength TP, my gallon size of Mr. Bubble and a quart or two of Ole Spice when the day started to go south. I was leaving the premises and some old fart up by the door was a wishin me a “Good Day” and I’m a thinking “I got a multi pack of four ply extra strength TP here in my arms, you’re damn tootin I’m gonna have a good day,” when here she comes. This gal’s got long black hair and she's drop dead gorgeous and wearing one of them shirts that don’t quite make it to where it supposed to. Now I don’t know whether them shirts is designed that way or whether there’s so much of her there’s simply not enough shirt if you get my drift. Well that little design flaw means her tummy’s a showin and it’s a tummy right out of one of them sit up commercials. To top it off she’s got some dad blame earring or some such thing nailed into her rather nice looking belly button. Well hells bells, her hips are going this way and that way and that little piece of jewelry is doing the same thing and I’m rather locked in if you know what I mean. Shit! I swear I was mezmertized! That little piece of jewelry was a dancing in my brain, back and forth, back and forth and then Kaboom!
When I regained consciousness there was this ole coot standing over me and his mouth was a moving, but I couldn’t hear anything at first. Christ, for a second I thought it was St. Peter but then, as if someone hit the switch, I hear St. Peter say, “Son, you just walked into the window there. What on earth were you thinkin?” Well I felt like a pigeon that just got peeled off the grill of a Freightliner and I realized that St. Peter was actually wearing a Walmart name tag and his name was Alfred. Well, on account of that damn woman my nose was bloodied a bit but the multi-pack, four ply extra strength TP had absorbed a lot of the primary impact and I was alive to shop another day.
Well that evening with a little Stones playing in the background I started to ponder the day’s events while icing down my nose and knockin down a couple of Jimmy Beams. I was watching the Biography Channel on my boob tube and it was about my favorite actor Vin Diesel and all them great movies he’s starred in. Well I’m already pondering things and then presto chango there’s a commercial for one of them erectile malfunction pills. It shows this nice lookin feller that’s about my age and he’s with some sexy lookin older woman and they’re in a hot tub. Hell, first of all I didn’t know there was such a thing as a nice lookin older woman, but that’s pondering material for another day. Well hells bells everybody and their uncle knew these two were gonna go have some whoopee and he was gonna howl at the moon a bit. But here’s what hit me. In order for him to have his minute and thirty seconds of fun and games he’s got to take this pill and here’s what the Mr. “Fancy Pants” announcer says. For your minute and thirty seconds of glory you’ll probably go blind, lose your hearing, have dizziness and a back ache, joint aches, bleed out your ear and then he says this and I ain’t kiddin, "If you have an erection lasting for more than four hours you need to call your doctor." Well, I spilled my beam all over my shirt and thought to myself, “Four hours! Hell, I’m calling every woman I know!” But then I set to pondering and realized that the side effects woulda killed my ass off long before the eighth woman had whispered “Thank you Merle” in my ear!
That’s what I’m getting at! It ain’t worth it anymore! If they ain’t maiming your ass in a Walmart you’re gobbling poison for a few minutes of Minny haha! Hell you’d be better off taking cyanide. It kills you straight out! Your legs wiggle a bit, you spit up on yourself and then you’re certifiably DOA. This Cialis crap kills you slowly over time and eventually your John Henry’ll fall off! It ain’t worth it! What are they leavin out? A little hallucinogenic voice that says “Put her bra back on you pervert!” I’d rather play a little poker or just ponder under a full moon with my Jimmy Beam than put myself through all that! No wonder women run things on this here planet. Us dumb ass men are willing to kill ourselves for a little nooky or throw ourselves against some invisible object for the privilege of visualizing nirvana or some such thing. It ain’t fair. I'm hearing voices again and it's ole Mick Jagger and he's singing "Put me out, put me out, put me out of misery." You're damn right! Beam me up Scotty!
It all started yesterday at Walmart. I was at the Walmart in Dyersville to “Bulk up” as I call it. You know, buy my 25 lb multi-pack, four ply, extra strength TP, my gallon size of Mr. Bubble and a quart or two of Ole Spice when the day started to go south. I was leaving the premises and some old fart up by the door was a wishin me a “Good Day” and I’m a thinking “I got a multi pack of four ply extra strength TP here in my arms, you’re damn tootin I’m gonna have a good day,” when here she comes. This gal’s got long black hair and she's drop dead gorgeous and wearing one of them shirts that don’t quite make it to where it supposed to. Now I don’t know whether them shirts is designed that way or whether there’s so much of her there’s simply not enough shirt if you get my drift. Well that little design flaw means her tummy’s a showin and it’s a tummy right out of one of them sit up commercials. To top it off she’s got some dad blame earring or some such thing nailed into her rather nice looking belly button. Well hells bells, her hips are going this way and that way and that little piece of jewelry is doing the same thing and I’m rather locked in if you know what I mean. Shit! I swear I was mezmertized! That little piece of jewelry was a dancing in my brain, back and forth, back and forth and then Kaboom!
When I regained consciousness there was this ole coot standing over me and his mouth was a moving, but I couldn’t hear anything at first. Christ, for a second I thought it was St. Peter but then, as if someone hit the switch, I hear St. Peter say, “Son, you just walked into the window there. What on earth were you thinkin?” Well I felt like a pigeon that just got peeled off the grill of a Freightliner and I realized that St. Peter was actually wearing a Walmart name tag and his name was Alfred. Well, on account of that damn woman my nose was bloodied a bit but the multi-pack, four ply extra strength TP had absorbed a lot of the primary impact and I was alive to shop another day.
Well that evening with a little Stones playing in the background I started to ponder the day’s events while icing down my nose and knockin down a couple of Jimmy Beams. I was watching the Biography Channel on my boob tube and it was about my favorite actor Vin Diesel and all them great movies he’s starred in. Well I’m already pondering things and then presto chango there’s a commercial for one of them erectile malfunction pills. It shows this nice lookin feller that’s about my age and he’s with some sexy lookin older woman and they’re in a hot tub. Hell, first of all I didn’t know there was such a thing as a nice lookin older woman, but that’s pondering material for another day. Well hells bells everybody and their uncle knew these two were gonna go have some whoopee and he was gonna howl at the moon a bit. But here’s what hit me. In order for him to have his minute and thirty seconds of fun and games he’s got to take this pill and here’s what the Mr. “Fancy Pants” announcer says. For your minute and thirty seconds of glory you’ll probably go blind, lose your hearing, have dizziness and a back ache, joint aches, bleed out your ear and then he says this and I ain’t kiddin, "If you have an erection lasting for more than four hours you need to call your doctor." Well, I spilled my beam all over my shirt and thought to myself, “Four hours! Hell, I’m calling every woman I know!” But then I set to pondering and realized that the side effects woulda killed my ass off long before the eighth woman had whispered “Thank you Merle” in my ear!
That’s what I’m getting at! It ain’t worth it anymore! If they ain’t maiming your ass in a Walmart you’re gobbling poison for a few minutes of Minny haha! Hell you’d be better off taking cyanide. It kills you straight out! Your legs wiggle a bit, you spit up on yourself and then you’re certifiably DOA. This Cialis crap kills you slowly over time and eventually your John Henry’ll fall off! It ain’t worth it! What are they leavin out? A little hallucinogenic voice that says “Put her bra back on you pervert!” I’d rather play a little poker or just ponder under a full moon with my Jimmy Beam than put myself through all that! No wonder women run things on this here planet. Us dumb ass men are willing to kill ourselves for a little nooky or throw ourselves against some invisible object for the privilege of visualizing nirvana or some such thing. It ain’t fair. I'm hearing voices again and it's ole Mick Jagger and he's singing "Put me out, put me out, put me out of misery." You're damn right! Beam me up Scotty!
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