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 arenât. 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; thatâs my demographic.
They love my sets and I love their sex. There is nothing quite like old pussy. Itâs got a different smell, little less elasticity and quite frankly a better flavor than the younger model stuff. Itâs already been broken in, none of that squeaking to be had. Plus much like a Caddy from the 1960âs, 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 donât 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 donât 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.
Sure, the majority of my stylish cast members sneer and disdainfully call what I do âbagging hags and making Wal-Mart whoopie â but they are missing out on the adrenaline and relative comfort of this enterprise. When the series was being shopped between networks, I made two decisions: never take out your dick in Hollywood and fuck only the most unconvincing women you can find.
The rationale is that I didnât want to be stuck fucking the same people my friends fucked. Itâs a small world, in addition to being a company town, and feelings are bound to be hurt. Jealous executives could only adversely affect my career. Plus with all the bed hopping I do, the likelihood of paparazzi is guaranteed and who needs the headache?
The tabloids, being a constant, are also less likely to pick up a story about an average to homely woman with sagging tits, a belly, flared hips and a cottage cheese ass who says I hog tied and corn holed her for 8 wonderful hours than one where my co stars swap spit with a beloved character actress in a public place.
