Making Walmart Whoopie 1: Incognito In Iowa
Friends ask why I chose the lovers I do. The answer is because of their appeal. They are real in a way that the wannabe actresses of Hollywood aren’t. I can have all the attractive women (and men) I could ever want, such are the benefits of having an award winning comedy show and a sizable endowment, but there is no thrill in bedding the 20 something beauty of the week. Sex for a starlet on the make is like breathing, nothing special.
I get pleasure from introducing my dick to ladies for whom sex is rare as diamonds and rarely satisfying. The females who have the television on all day while cleaning the house are whom I find erotic. The housewives who let themselves go after the fourth kid, the empty nester cat ladies, the manic steering committee chairwomen; that’s my demographic.
They love my sets and I love their sex. There is nothing quite like old pussy. It’s got a different smell, little less elasticity and quite frankly a better flavor than the younger model stuff. It’s already been broken in, none of that squeaking to be had. Plus much like a Caddy from the 1960’s, the old gals have space and cushioning to spare. Give me love handles, spread out ass and thunder thighs any day of the week. There is more to grab a hold of and ride like a rodeo roper.
Most of these older gals live in the middle of the country. Celebrities of my stature don’t come out there that often. That makes the lonely Lindas of Corn and Bible Belts even more willing to throw the pussy at us.
They don’t know if this will be the last time they meet someone from the television in their lives. That is why I transcribe my stand up routine and release it in book form periodically. It is fluff but it allows me to do mall tours in the neglected areas of the country.