What’s your soul worth?

I’ve been thinking about money lately. Actually, I’m pretty sure I’m thinking about money all the time (indirectly or directly). It seems to me that jumping wealth brackets in one lifetime is such a monumental hurdle that striving for it can only be setting yourself up for personal failure. Sure, I’m making more than my parents made at my age, but things also cost 3 times what they did back then. I went to college and got a degree, so why can’t I automatically be swimming in greenbacks?

I recently saw a commercial on Comedy Central for a product called Extenze (which I’m assuming is derivative of the Latin phrase “extend my penis”). In this commercial, a man is browsing through a brochure one can only assume is full of facts about increasing the length of your penis. He has a giant smile on his face as he fills his head with knowledge about male penises and how his measures up. His attractive girlfriend approaches him and asks him what he’s smiling about. “I just ordered a male enhancement drug called Extense.”

“Oh what, you mean, like, for muscles?” (academy award winning line)

“Nooooo. I mean maaale enhaaancement.”

The girl smiles mischievously and coohs, “Oooh. Does that really work.”

At that point the guy smiles, picks up the brochure and shows what I’m assuming is pictorial proof of men’s penises being increased to massive proportions. The girl smiles broadly as she looks with desire at these men who are more endowed than her mate that is sitting right beside her; wishing in the back of her mind that, while she repeatedly assures that his manhood is “fine” or “size really isn’t important”, she had one of these men in place of her current interest.

“Woa. That IS an enhancement!” she cries.

Now, I’m thinking, how much was this guy paid to publicly emasculate himself with such enthusiasm? If his friends were worth their weight, they’d never let this guy here the end of it and every drinking session conversation would be saturated with references to his longing for a longer johnson. Assuming that’s the case, how much money would it take me to follow suit? How much money would it take for me to endure possibly a lifetime of embarrassment? A lifetime of ridicule from those closest to me? A lifetime of walking around the dating scene with the stigma of “the little guy who dreamed of becoming a man?”

And I came up with a figure: $44,300 with a 2% royalty payment. Contact me via email for offers. I don’t do gay stuff.