0600 – As I roll out of bed on this dull, cloudy, sunless morning I can’t help but think back over my life. All the things I’ve done. All the times I saved our great nation while in military intelligence. All the 9s and 10s I have bedded. The men I’ve intimidated with a glance or a tipping back of my cowboy hat. The infinite miles on the back of a hog.
Most men could only dream of my life. Living in the paradise of rural Ohio, surrounded by nubile college females only to eager to jump the bones of a man the age of their grandpa. When you’ve got it, you’ve got it.
As I walk to the bathroom to prepare myself for ComicCon 18 I have to stop and admire the reflection in the mirror. Arms and chest that can benchpress a Volkswagon, rakish goatee, and a cocky sneer that reminds one of a refined Sean Connery. If only people realized how blessed they are to be in my prescence, or to even walk the same Earth as I.
0822 – I step out of my door way, a ruggedly handsome man dressed to the nines in a tight white t-shirt and blue jeans. With a cowboy hat rakishly tilted and hand tooled leather boots, along with a distressed denim jacket. I am the spitting image of Wolverine, if he were a towering 6’4″. I climb onto my Harley and ride off.
Look out world. Here comes the man of all men.