by Wacky Philly…
I was thinking the other day about an old friend of mine, Jackson Jackson. You heard me right: Jackson Jackson. Like Jean-Paul, Jean-Paul from Seinfeld.
Jackson is a born salesman. He and I went to high school together, but instead of going to college like the rest of us, Jackson decided instead to go into sales. If you don’t go to college, and you don’t want to wind up making minimum wage flipping burgers or selling shoes, then you have to go into sales.
Salesmen are actually some of the highest paid people in America. Why? Because they’re right where the money is. If you want to make good dough, sometimes it helps to be right where the money is.
Of course, the amount of money you make depends a lot upon the type of business you’re in. Say, for instance, you decide you’re going to make your first million selling steak knives. If so, maybe you shouldn’t be eyeing down your first BMW quite yet. But there are many areas where you can make a fortune in sales. Like insurance, the stock market, or even spraying paint on people’s heads to cover up their bald spots. That guy, the same TV guy who invented the electric pasta maker and the beef jerky machine, he made billions! For Jackson Jackson, becoming a billionaire just wasn’t in the cards.
You’re either a born salesman or you’re not. The thing about a born salesman is, he’s always selling, whether it’s what he’s going to have for dinner or even what movie he’s going to see. My grandfather was a born salesman. He worked for Grolier Publishing back in the day and was even a founding member of the Playboy Club. I still have the mug and the ceremonial key from opening night in Chicago. I have a picture of him with Hugh Hefner, and him standing next to his brand new Cadillac. My grandfather could sell you a fur coat in August. He was always selling. AWLAYS selling.
And so was my friend Jackson Jackson, but it wasn’t encyclopedias he was selling, Cadillacs, either. The line of work he chose, well, I have to believe that he believed it would make him rich some day. Why else would he be selling what he was? The thing about a salesman is, if he’s a good one, even he believes his own bullshit. Why else, I had to believe, would he be selling what he’s selling?
You see, the line of work Jackson was into was self-defense, and the product was Tasers. Jackson worked at Tasers Tasers Tasers, based out of Jacksonville, Florida. He was the top salesman at the company, but being the top salesman didn’t come without its drawbacks.
And what made Jackson the top Taser salesman? Because he was the only one who would demonstrate the product: ON HIMSELF! That’s right. Jackson Jackson was never one to back down when it came time to demonstrate the quality of his product. Like I said, Jackson was a born salesman. He would do anything to make a sale.
I remember one time he did a demonstration for this woman. The product worked great. She was thoroughly impressed. But when Jackson woke up he found the woman had robbed him blind. Not only had she taken all his money, his jewelry, his watch, she had made off with all his Tasers as well.
Jackson would do anything to make a sale, but now I think maybe he’d taken one too many in the head. Now that I remember, he never was quite right. He got out of the Taser game, though. Last I heard, Jackson was selling Priapic Rectal Probes. What the heck is a priapic rectal probe, you ask? In short, when scientists need to get a hold of some animal semen, they have one of three choices: they can ram an electric probe up an animal’s rectum, shove an artificial vagina onto the animal’s penis, or simply do it the old-fashioned way. Since most researchers aren’t too fond of playing the roll of animal vagina, or jerking the ornery critter off, it’s the priapic rectal probe they turn to. The priapic rectal probe is a form of electro-ejaculation. It works by sending electricity through the animal’s nether regions, thus causing the animal to ejaculate.
“All the normal excitatory signals that stimulate ejaculation, like touch, sight, sound and smell, can be replaced with the current from the probe,” says Trish Berger, professor of animal science at the University of California, Davis. “It’s fascinating.” Of course, fascinating is the word chosen by a woman. I’m not so sure that’s the word the male animal would choose as well.
Whether there’s a good market for selling electrified ejaculation machines or not, I do not know. I know there’s good money in most things scientific, so perhaps Jackson has finally found his pot of gold. Perhaps, however, he’s simply found a more horrifying and sadistic way of making animals cum. I shudder to think how Jackson demonstrates this product. The idea him using it on himself is something I quite simply refuse to imagine.
My friend Jackson Jackson, the born salesman.