I need a larger penis, or larger breasts... not sure on this one, but seeing as I’m made aware of my physical imperfections several times a day, I probably should seriously consider my options for the sake of the greater good. There also seem to be dozens of single, randy women waiting to talk to me on the Internet. I know this is true because they have been sending me messages from dating sites that I am not a member of, encouraging me to fork out some major mulah and join. Which is perfect timing, because I can totally afford it now! You see, recently I received a few hundred emails notifying me that apparently my long lost African and British ancestors have left me millions upon millions of dollars in old bank accounts my dead relatives owned, but since the money is located in Africa and England, there is understandably a bit of a problem with banking red tape. This is kind of weird since I have a larger Native American and French collective heritage than I ever would either British or African. Well, let’s just face it; there is no chance in hell of me having family members Africa, past or present. No offense to my African non-relatives. It does seem rather unlikely, though, that my French relatives (Canadian or otherwise) would have left me some obscenely large amount of money in a bank somewhere, since I heard they were broke. Native Americans DO have those casinos though, so maybe I should do a little research of my own in that department. Find my Great Uncle Blue Feather. See if I have cousins.
Apparently having an email account means there are hundreds of thousands of people waiting to spam those accounts even if you only ever use it for simple things. It really causes me to worry about advancements in technology. Someday, when we are driving on the interstate in cars that are completely electric, run on auto-pilot, and totally integrated into social media, am I going to have to worry about spam being flooded into our vehicles as we make our morning commute? Or even worse, being sent to a breast augmentation drive-through clinic (it’s bound to happen) on your way to work because someone managed to hack your navigator while you were logged into your email account, and now you’re sitting in a line of cars, all of you trying to skip forward to the next destination but you keep getting the never ending submission line , “Are you sure you want to do that?” What used to be a painless trip to drop off the kids at daycare will never be the same again. Better start desensitizing the kids now.
Such spam and obnoxious tactics have become so intrusive in every aspect of our lives that the government is now legislating the volume in which commercials are broadcast on the networks. I think it’s time we let people know that we are OK with the size of our manhood/breasts. That the amount time we can keep our erections/ prolong our orgasms is completely normal. It’s not our fault if our partner cannot finish at track star speeds, if you’re a man, nor is it our fault that our partner finishes faster than Jesse Owens, if you’re a woman. Now, please feel free to enjoy your deleting spree every morning and remember both Hotmail and Gmail have made the process of deleting the garbage that much faster.
However, if you wake up tomorrow, and you need a good laugh, a new girlfriend, a bigger appendage, a million dollars, a better sex life, some new friends, a time share, or just something to take your mind off things like your job, your wife and kids, or paying the bills, just log into your email, and say Good Morning to your friendly local spammers. They’ll be forever grateful.
Better yet, just log into Facebook. All the same benefits, but at least you know the spammers personally. You can call them later. Then, get your jollies off harvesting your peaches, plowing your wives fields, sucking some blood, planting some seeds, hatching some little swimmers, and whacking a mobster. But remember, most workplaces frown upon defecating on desks, no matter whose desk it is, so go ahead and fertilize your bosses flowers. He’ll think you did him a solid, but only you will know how that REALLY could have turned out.