Let me tell you all a tale. A tale of a salesman so incredible, his very presence has caused untold numbers of consumers to literally rip their pants off in an effort to give him their wallets as quickly as possible. A man so ingratiating, so wholesomely lovable that he once bartered an unidentifiable lump of composite metals for Power of Attorney over an eighty-four year old grandmother of eight whom he had never even met. This, ladies and gentleman, is my story.
Some call me by my name: Randy “Adolph” Hitler (a name I took voluntarily, in the hopes of impeding my own runaway success). Those in the door-to-door sales trade call me simply, “he who must not be named.” You, friend, can call me Randy. I’m here to do the jobs no one else can, to move the merchandise that no other salesman can move.
Be warned: if you’re reading these words, it’s already too late for you. Prepare to buy, and gladly, whatever it is I care to sell. It may tingle uncomfortably; don’t panic. That’s a completely normal reaction for first-timers. Just look deep into my eyes, feel the enveloping comfort of the world’s friendliest handshake, and get ready to drool in wonder over the item or items that you will soon believe are capable of changing your life forever.
If you’re looking for some top-of-the-line tail, you’ve come to the right place. I only carry the most luscious lady parts, the most vaunted venus mons, the most hallowed honeypots. My stock of refurbished and once-used vaginas are guaranteed like new. Each pickle-smuggler undergoes a 114-point inspection by a licensed vagina professor, and not a one leaves my lot without my personal “thumbs up.” Best of all, because these cocksocks are lovingly handcrafted by Nairobe sweatshop workers, I am able to offer them at bargain bin prices. I’m telling you, this baby’s got all the best features: a self-lubrication system, labial aerodynamics, even a hole where you can put your penis. I mean, listen to that baby queef. That is the sound of quality. Naturally, the undercoating is an extra surcharge, but I’m telling you, after a couple weeks out in the rain and heat…you’re going to want that undercoating. What will it take to get you into this vagina today?
Some Land Somewhere
Pack up your belongings and children, and step on the gas! This limited time only offer is perfect for the family that is looking for a chance to build their own home and aren’t frightened by the occasional bout of malaria, West Nile Virus, or backwoods serial killer. Imagine yourself as a brave pioneer on the edge of civilization, carving out a homestead from the wilderness, wresting security for you and your family from the succulent teat of Mother Nature. Your home could be the nipple of that teat, but only if you act now. Abandon the drab life you now know, and purchase one of these luxurious parcels of land, nestled in the scenic Ozark mountain range. Lewis and Clark themselves called this land “habitable” during their venture across the great USA. Come prove them right!
A Copy of The Crying Game, Like New Except That The Last Half Got Taped Over With Old Simpsons Episodes and Part of a Friend’s Baby’s Bris, and The First Half Has Some Tint and Tracking Problems
By now, I think we can all be certain that everyone in the world knows what happens at the end of The Crying Game. The woman’s a man, the Nazis come, the bomb goes off, blah blah blah. Why suffer through the same movie again and again when you can revel in the antics of Bart and Lisa Simpson? Who knows what crazy scheme these tykes will come up with next! A hotdog eating contest? A haberdashery? A trip to a foreign nation? Find out with this tape, and get a free glimpse into the secretive Jewish world of infant genital mutilation thrown into the bargain!
Randy’s All-Purpose Nondescript Object
Perhaps this object was discovered deep within the tombs of a Mayan king, still being clutched by the skeletal hand of a mummified high priest. Or, perhaps I stumbled upon it while cleaning out my closet to make room for some skis I misguidedly bought even though I’m overweight and hate the winter. Which is it? No one knows. Live the mystery! Live the heart-pounding excitement! This nondescript object has some…what looks like straw, maybe…wrapped around it, and it’s got mass and depth, making it ideal for holding down stacks of paper or bludgeoning a man in the head with. It’s even got a hole where you can put your penis. That’s right, no home should be without Randy’s All-Purpose Sex Rock/paperweigt/talisman of unbelievable power. Nab yours today and you can be the first on your block to unlock its terrifying secrets, or, alternately, its staggering mundanity!
The Very Air You Breathe
If you breathe, you are stealing air. There’s no other way to put it. You are stealing, and if I met you on the street I would call you a thief and rip your lungs from your chest with a claw hammer, and no one would blame me. But here’s the bright side: you don’t have to be a filthy, grubby, degenerate any longer! I bet you’re doing it right now. Inhaling, exhaling, oxygenating your blood cells, all without paying a single dime for the privilege. Well, for a limited time only, that’s all we’re asking: one…thin…dime. Someone, somewhere, works hard to provide the oxygen you need, and if you’ll send me a dime, I’m willing to promise you that I’ll get that money to whoever is doing it. I’ll even guarantee, for LIFE, that you, personally, will have an unlimited supply of oxygen from which to draw. So make sure you and everyone you know who breathes air sends me a dime a piece, or else you’re all bastards who deserve to die gasping in the middle of a sun-parched wasteland.
A Non-Fatal Arterial Blockage
You like to be popular, right? You like to feel as if you’re complying with social norms, right? You don’t like being pointed and stared at, do you? Let’s face facts: these days, an American not afflicted with an obesity-related disease is rarely welcome at cocktail parties, all-you-can-eat buffets, or emergency care clinics. If you’re tired of being the only one without a triple-bypass surgery story, you have two options. You can go through all the hassle and headache of eating your way into the hospital, OR…you can sit back, relax, and let our crack team of surgeons implant this impressive, but ultimately non-fatal blockage into the major artery of your choice. Surprise and delight your friends by collapsing during a movie! Smile inwardly from your hospital bed as you hear them murmur “but he seemed so healthy!” Come join the rest of America, and stop being left out in the bitter cold of longevity and nutrition.
A World’s Greatest Grandpa Mug of Cherry Cider
This mug, and only this mug, determines the relative superiority of Grandpas the world over. Technically you’re just buying the cider, but feel free to imagine yourself to be world’s greatest grandpa for the entire duration of your drink. In fact, I encourage it. And if you’ve yet to have grandchildren; not to worry. Some can be provided for you at a nominal hourly rate.
You ever see those late night ads that try to trick you into spending hard-earned money on fake commemorative coins that are totally unredeemable? Believe me, the lady at the Denny’s doesn’t take it well when you try to pay for you Ham Grand Slam with a shoebox full of 9/11 Quarters. Our coins, however, are entirely different. Commemorating the May 16, 1868 failure by the Senate to impeach President Andrew Johnson by a single vote, they are a stark reminder of the fragile nature of American liberty. Adorned with a liberty eagle on the reverse side, the mirrored coin is destined to become a centerpiece of your collection. Also ask about our commemorative coin starter sets, which include blank, quarter-sized hunks of metal and tiny, tiny, engraving tools.
Well, that’s all that’s on the roster this time, and I look forward to receiving your many purchase orders. To buy a product, simply stuff one manilla envelope with money, write “care of Randy Hitler” on it in big block letters, and drop it off with your local postman. Make sure to tell the postman what product you want, and to tell me so I can ship your order back to you. If this all fails, simply stand outside with your wallet raised above your head and shout “Randy Hitler!” repeatedly. I’ll be with you shortly.
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2009 Those Aren't Muskets!