EDIT: The Zombie post is locked for a few weeks, but it will be back with all original comments intact before too long. I did this because it is now going up on Cracked! I’m going to rework it a little bit, and fix everybody’s typos (if you even had any,) but it should be up relatively intact and up within the week. If I used your plan in the article, please message me or comment here with any twitter account, blog, or webpage you would like your byline to link to. May as well get a few hits out of it. Thanks again for such awesome responses, everybody!
I started writing comedy about five and a half years ago, on a little Livejournal that was equal parts drunken rambling, introspective musings, and dick jokes. However, occasionally there was a straight comedy piece, and that was the start of all this current madness. The following article was the very first of those pieces, and I have, despite every ounce of my being screaming to the contrary, left it in its original, unedited state. The syntax errors, the factual inaccuracies, the rambling, half-mad sentences that should’ve stopped six tense changes ago – everything’s intact. Well, I did add some images and captions. I’m not a monster.
There are certain breeds of people who can conglomerate their passions into one, no matter how different they are. Lust for sky-diving? Love for Bicycling? Ride that bicycle out of a plane, my friend, you have reached the ultimate!
This time, however, they’ve done it all for me, and by ‘they’ I mean the good people at Extenz. A company that sounds part cybernetic, part philosophical, and all penis enlargement tonics. Here’s the kicker though, they do it on the TV! Using that special breed of celebrity that touches my heart so, the You Remember Me, Right? template of famous. They have Ron Jeremy hosting a fake talk show infomercial for penis enlargement, in conjunction with their Internet campaign.
My god, they’ve combined the gutter overflow of pop culture, desperate and awkward infomercials, and dick jokes into one fantastic roller coaster thrill ride of a half hour! A ticket gets you the whole seat, but you’ll only need the edge!
But wait! There’s more!
Actually there’s not, but I am going to keep going anyway, because I’m an American, dammit, and we are nothing if not stubborn and repetitive. I’ll describe the action for you all of you unfortunate people that don’t watch TV only at 3 in the morning, like myself.
We begin on a beautiful pan of sunny southern California, cut randomly with stills of rock hard abs and stone cold pecs, interspersed with just a pinch of speedo bound package shots.
“Don’t you wish this was you?” Comes the narrative, “stay tuned and see how it could be!”
You have my attention, media, I have always wanted to be a penis caged in nylon.
We meet our two generic hosts, who I can only suppose are Chip and Jennifer, informing us that in this enlightened age we live in, sex has come to be an acceptable part of human nature. You’re more than just a pretty face, Chip, that’s fucking deep.
Their point is immediately weakened, however, when they say:
“Yes, we are talking about that certain part of the male anatomy.”
They won’t say penis, dick, cock, or even member, much less Wang Dang Sweet Little Billy Zane, which I call mine. I don’t, really, but I think I will now. They won’t say sex, or vagina, pussy, fucking, intercourse. It’s always ‘that certain act’ and ‘that certain part of a male anatomy’ and the inability of most men to ‘satisfy a woman in that certain way.’ Now, my mind was born in the gutter, and it will die that way in a pool of it’s own intellectual vomit, so I knew what they were talking about. But I imagine they lost a good portion of tiny penis packing desperados who thought to themselves “oh, great. Another infomercial about enlarging your thumbs. If only they could concentrate that energy on my midget monster, ah well.”
We only see Chip and Jennifer in sporadic and random bursts of nonsense from here on out, and it’s a loss too, as I will always miss Chip’s intense dissection of the role sexual habits play in the development of society. Want not now, countrymen, because he’s immediately magically replaced by Ron Jeremy!
What? Haha, what? Ron Jeremy? Really? Yeah, you’ve slept with a lot of women, RJ, but your whole appeal is that you are the anomaly of porn. You look like a three way hybrid of Magnum P. I., a truck stop dishwasher, and a dead gopher. Not to mention I’ve seen your penis more times than I have seen my own, and you’re not exactly blocking out the sun and plunging the world into eternal darkness via your immense girth. I don’t wanna seem arrogant, Mr. Jeremy, but were you and I to engage in a cockfight in a smoky Tijuana garage, twelve out of fifteen sadistic Mexicans would be laying odds against you.
As a sidenote, there is something perverse about seeing Ron Jeremy behind a desk. I’m far more at home with the notion of him wheezingly banging away at a trailer park mom on top of that desk, than I am with him behind it.
For the duration of his segment, he polls the feelings of two former teen porn stars on the importance of size. And one hundred percent of drug addled, silicon bound whores agree that size does matter. And I should expect nothing less, as to establish their expertise on the subject Ron asks them that if they had to further a guess, how many men have they slept with? A thousand! They both agree, somewhere around a thousand. I haven’t even seen that many women in person my whole life. I should hope size would matter to them at this point, as it would take half a tank of gas in a Toyota to reach the far end of your vagina after a thousand men. Ron goes on to what I can only assume are several humorous exchanges about how everybody knows size is important. Then sums up with “I mean, the statue of liberty is that big for a reason, it wouldn’t be that great if it was four inches tall.”
Oh….shit. Did you just…? You totally did. My god, Ron, you should be on an infomercial exemplifying enormous balls, cause that was hard fucking core. You just compared the symbol of freedom and liberty renowned the world over to a dick. You have balls like collapsed stars, Jeremy, so dense they absorb matter.
Throughout Ron’s seriously crazy awesome talk show about freedom and his penis, we cut to fifteen seconds segments of Chip N’ Jennifer spouting made up facts about Extenz as fast and as loudly as they can before their camera time is up:
Sold over a quarter billion bottles!
SOLD OVER FOUR BILLION BOTTLES!!!!!
TEN TIMES LARGER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YOU WILL BE A GOD ON EARTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And cut. Time’s up. I hope whoever has a gun trained on your heads to force that kind of desperate enthusiasm is pleased with your efforts, if not, Godspeed you, half plastic people, may you find the results in heaven you could not on earth. They follow with a few mock testimonials, that they do have the honesty to preface these real peoples reactions with “this is a reenactment using paid actors depicting real results as reported to us.” Which is a nice way of saying, we made this whole fucking thing up, but we think it probably worked on somebody out there, even if the only swelling reported was due to a fat man in Arizona getting his wang caught in a jet in the hot tub.
I can’t get too down on them, though, because by the end of the show they summarize the manifold effects of Extenz, by describing perfect world peace. They say with confidence comes happiness for all men, and with monster cocks violating their orgasms comes happiness for all women. The last spoken line, by Mr. Jeremy:
“If you see somebody smiling, man or woman across the world, it’s probably because of Extenz!”
Jesus, Ron, in that general summary any Buddhist monk, content in his simple peaceful meditation is really just thinking intensely about how much bigger his dick is now. Any proud parent, the moment after bringing a life onto this planet is really thinking back to the moment of conception, reminiscing about how long and rock hard his cock was and will now always be.
I’ve come away from this show having learned two things. One, world peace is achieved by making everybody’s Littlest Mohican up to 25% larger, so drop all that cold fusion bullshit, scientists, and get the fuck on it already. Two, Ron Jeremy has Balls of Unmitigated Force.
If you meet him in a dark alley someday, you just drop your wallet on the ground and run like hell, apologizing at the top of your lungs through your sobbing, terrified tears. Cause he’s crazy and hell, and he will take you out.