Thursday, July 10, 2008

Consider the following

Ron Pereleman: beastly billionaire. Married to multiple hot starlets.
Rush Limbaugh: Oxy-deafened blob. Banged all manner of Fox News Babes (C).
Howard Stern: Scarecrow-esque hook-nose Jew. Banged Angie Everhart (in her prime.)
Howard Hughes: Died, quite literally, of OCD; enjoyed not showering for years. Notorious womanizer and de-virginizer.

What these men all have in common is one thing: Absolutely zero sex appeal. There is not an honest, mentally-sound woman alive or dead who would consider, sua sponte, sleeping with any one of the lot. No, its not success that draws women to them. It's not the alpha male personality. It's not even the money. (Honestly, it isn't.)
What it is, is chutzpah. The sheer arrogance to buck their place in society and say, "I'm ugly as sin, but I'm still going to throw down on some top-shelf pussy!" These men are the true non-conformists. You think dying your hair green and listening to Joy Division makes you a rebel? Try putting on an elephant man mask, gaining 300 pounds, going to a bar, and landing a statuesque blonde. That is more of a middle-finger to society's expectations than any other act imaginable.

This observation leads us to one simple truth about women: That they implicitly trust the judgment of other women, namely, those who are actually screwing the aforementioned man-walruses. Of course, they may disagree in the abstract. "Come on Duke," the hypothetical female reader might say, "No way I'd bang Rush!" And this is true--to a point. But to see a beautiful, non-pro, liberated 21st century woman choose to bang the rotund right-winger brings up in a woman a primal fear: The thought that they could be missing out on something absolutely fucking amazing. If he is that ghastly, and layin' pipe to a sista that hot, there must be something very, very special about his personality sense of humor wallet cock.

I know there are those who still say it's all about the money. To those I offer a damning piece of evidence: Manuel Uribe, one of the world's fattest men, without a pot to piss in, because he's probably making spaghetti in it.
Oh, and sorry ladies, he's taken:

"I was impotent before, but now everything's working again. Ask my girlfriend," he said happily, his Guinness World Records certificate [for losing 900 pounds in one year - Ed.] hanging on the wall.

To the list above, I must add Senor Uribe, who shares his steel-reinforced bed with his mamacita. He has the cojones (that's Mexican for chutzpah) to convince a woman that she would be better off with him, (all 1,230 pounds), than with anyone else.

Where the confidence to just not give a fuck springs from is a mystery more important to mankind than the location of the holy grail, alien life, or the clitoris. Which I guarantee none of the above has ever found....