Hey 3.5 readers.
My best buddy, “The Alleged Man” or the person everyone thinks is me but isn’t, has been pretty bummed as of late.
See, he’s 38, and since 35 the realization has been a slow trickle, now turning into a busted water faucet of a realization that his window to father children is getting narrower and narrower.
In theory, yes, if you can squeeze out some joy juice out of a one hundred year old man, you might be able to use it to knock up a chick. However, that 100 year old still needs to get the go ahead from a young, fertile chick…because, you know, otherwise he’d be a centenarian rapist.
NOTE TO SELF: “Centenarian Rapist” would be an awesome title for my next book. TAGLINE: He raped his way through the Great Depression and two world wars, now he’s raping his way into the grave. Begin plans for a 99 Design cover contest posthaste.
Back to the point. Do things look grim for this stud muffin? Should he just slap himself for not working harder to impregnate a chick in his early days, then forgive himself an accept his spawn-less existence?
I mean, our own 45th POTUS managed to knock up a hot younger woman at age 60 but, you know, he’s super rich and famous and also the POTUS and also has fantastic hair and I have heard rumors that he is often talked about on the news for some reason.
But do keep in mind AM not rich or famous or the POTUS. That probably won’t happen until I release “Son of Toilet Gator” and then everyone will be all like “Oh AM you’re so super awesome, please impregnate all the women, yay.”
Yeah, yeah, forget pity and condolences about “Hey, Alleged Man, maybe you can adopt or maybe you’ll meet a babe with kids of her own and the Dad has skipped town.”
The Alleged Man is wondering about his chances of actually getting his swimmers past the fallopian goal line.
Sadly, the “Sell a Billion Copies of Toilet Gator and impregnate a gold digging supermodel” looks like it is still years away from coming to fruition.
Plus, AM recently read something about how the older you get, the worse your sperm gets. AM is now highly concerned that a microscopic slide of his jism would bear a striking resemblance to a bunch of tiny tadpoles slapping each other around like the Three Stooges. Nyuk nyuk.