Observations Regarding Birds by Robert Durst (to be read using your best Robert Durst imitation)

Sometimes a happy bird lands on your shoulder
and it stays there singing happily away –
ALL DAY –
and maybe it’s a day you’re not necessarily
in the mood for that chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp
ALL DAY LONG –
and it starts to drive you a little crazy.

You try to shoo it away
but it stays there.
No matter how many times
you say “Shoo!”
or you tell it,
“You NEED to
STOP SING-ING.
You need to be
ELSE-WHERE.”
“This has got to stop NOW –
PERIOD.”
The bird is still there.

So when nothing happens,
if the bird will not listen to reason,
well then you are at the point where
you have to take the matter
into YOUR OWN hands.
And you squeeze that bird
until it stops singing.

If it’s a small bird,
like a sparrow or a robin,
you dispose of the cadaver –
because who walks around
with a dead bird in their hands?

If it’s a bigger bird,
like a partridge or a cornish hen,
or a REALLY bigger bird
like a chicken or a turkey,
well, that’s great,
then you have your dinner
for the evening right there
and you didn’t even need to go
to Wegmans.
Maybe it’s your lucky day after all.

Who would have thought.

Why Should I Join a Cannibalistic Death Cult?

So you’re thinking of joining a cannibalistic death cult or maybe your mom or friend is forcing you, either way you’ve come to Cannibalistic Death Cult Ever After, so joining a cannibalistic death cult is on your mind!

Why should you join a cannibalistic death cult?

Going back a few years to the moment we decided to join, we asked ourselves a million questions:

Do I really need to “pay” to hang out with people who believe in eating the flesh of other humans? Will I even like the taste of human flesh, the thrill of participating ritual murders and my fellow cannibalistic death cult members? What’s in it for me other than a steady supply of high-grade, lean protein? Will it get in the way of school and work?

But going through cannibalistic death cult recruitment, becoming a collegiate member and finally moving into alumna status; it is easy for us to reflect on the importance of our decision to murder innocents in a ritualistic fashion and consume their flesh.

Of course you are going to college to create a great life for yourself and your future – good for you! It is a fantastic decision, but it’s not only your major or GPA that gets you that interview or job, it is all the extra things you do – from scouting out abandoned churches to sharing a new recipe for flavorful human flesh jerky.

A cannibalistic death cult gives you the assertiveness, the “anything’s possible” attitude, and the total lack of respect for the value of human life you need to be successful in the “real world.”

A cannibalistic death cult is a great place to network with alumnae that work in a field that may be your interest area and allows you that extra step/ push that others might not have – and if they do, you can simply consume them. Cannibalistic death cult alumnae can open doors for you with internship opportunities, job interviews, or even just the often overlooked advice to guide you in the right direction for a steady supply of victims to ritually kill and feast upon.

Cannibalistic death cults give you opportunities to be very active in the community and have a higher meaning in this life by dispatching others into the next life. From raising money to giving your time, you’ll see how much of an impact you, your cannibalistic death cult chapter, and cannibalistic death cults as a whole have on the world around us.

Leadership is hands down the most vital reason to join. Many people can get straight A’s but can you lead a group of 60+ cannibalistic death cult members, all the while balancing school, family, friends, etc? Cannibalistic death cults give you the opportunity to exhibit and grow your skill set. Even if you don’t see yourself becoming the president of a cannibalistic death cult chapter one day, you’ll still have opportunities to take part in numerous committees or hold officer positions. Most presidents and officers never pictured themselves as holding that position when they joined their cannibalistic death cult chapter. Imagine this; YOU could be the next social or recruitment chair!

And of course, cannibalistic death cults are FUN! Why do anything if you’re not going to have fun – right? There are dances, sleepovers, events, parties, mixers and a million other fun things to do aside from ritual slaughter and consumption. You’re bound to meet – and eat – tons of new people. Whether it’s elderly nuns, pizza boys, or members from another cannibalistic death cult, you’ll make new friends almost every time you whip out your ritual kill knife.

We could go on and on about why you should take the leap to find your cannibalistic death cult ever after, but you have to make the final decision. At least try out recruitment and go from there.

Happy killing and bon appetit!

Kali, Nephthys and Hectate


For this piece, I appropriated the base text from http://sororityeverafter.com/reasons-to-join-a-sorority/ , changed every instance of “sorority” to “cannibalistic death cult” and tweaked the resulting text.

A 5-Paragraph Essay on Why the Killer in Me Is Not the Killer in You (for Billy Corgan)

          The killer in me is not the killer in you. There are numerous reasons why this is so, foremost of which are vast differences in appearance, modus operandi, and choice of companion animal. These differences leave no doubt that the killer in me is not the killer in you.
          First off, the killer in me and the killer in you look nothing alike. The killer in me looks like Lenny Kravitz if Lenny Kravitz had been cast in the original Mod Squad – which is to say, the killer in me looks a lot like Lenny Kravitz. The killer in you resembles Mrs. Havisham from Great Expectations right down to the goiter. Since they bear so little resemblance to each other, it is impossible that the killer in me can be the killer in you.
          Next, we turn to their radically different methods of killing. The killer in me approaches his victims on public streets, asks for directions to the nearest dry cleaners, and then nonchalantly blows a poison blow dart directly into their left eye. It is always the left eye and it it always a direct hit in the center of the eye – he never misses. The killer in you lures plumbers and handymen into her basement/dungeon/kill room and, after rendering them senseless with a tranquilizing spray, hoists them up onto a flogging station with the aid of a winch (as the killer in you is weak and enfeebled) whereupon she proceeds to flog them to death with a cat o’nine tails. Clearly, these are not the modus operandi of the same killer.
          Finally, we come to the choice of companion animals. For his companion animal, the killer in me has a Shiba-inu/wolf-dog named Kenji. Kenji is never allowed to feast on the flesh of the killer in me’s victims. The companion animal of the killer in you is a Siamese cat named Dash-Dash (pronounced “dash, dash, dash”). The killer in you takes great delight in watching Dash-Dash devour the flesh of her victims until only bloodied bone is left. Simply put, different companion animals – different killers.
          In conclusion, the killer in me is not the killer in you. Since they have widely divergent appearances, share no common modus operandi, and have diametrically opposed companion animals, there is no doubt whatsoever that the killer in me is not the killer in you. To insist otherwise is folly.

Ted Nugent, Where Are You When I Need You?

Ted Nugent, where are you
when I need you?

I am two blocks from my house,
being robbed by a man holding a knife,
and I am stalling for time,
telling him all about my heart condition,
and my pacemaker,
and my poetry blog,
and that I am a Virgo,
and how I recently got a new wallet
because my old wallet was too big,
like an old man wallet,
and how ironic it is that this new wallet
is somehow stickier in my jeans,
if I can use that word – “stickier” –
to refer to the straight out silly length of time
it is taking me to perform the simple act
of pulling my wallet out of my jeans
at knifepoint, jeans which are tighter than
they used to be, I tell him, because they closed
the entrance to my favorite running trail,
and I’m finding it hard to adjust to the new route,
so I tend to just skip my runs anymore,
and this has lead me to put on weight,
which makes it more difficult to remove my wallet –
blah, blah, blah, blah, blah – but I can
only stall so long Ted Nugent!
My robber grows impatient!

*        *        *        *        *

And I’m waiting for you Ted Nugent
to come around the corner of 22nd and Summer St.
majestically riding a four-wheeled ATV,
holding your bow cocked with your
pure and certain arrow of death, you resembling
a Greek warrior in his chariot, if Greek
warriors wore feathered cowboy hats
and leather vests and their chariots ran on loud
gas engines.

And I’m waiting here, stalling, so I can make eye
contact with you when you appear,
and give a brief nod of my head,
and say in a cool, even tone,
a tone which suggests we have done this
so many times before that it has become
almost routine – “Take him.”
And as the robber turns to face you,
you’ve already let your arrow fly
and time slows as the arrow comes
closer and closer then pierces straight through
his Adam’s Apple and out the back of his neck
spraying me with the blood of my foe,
most likely ruining my prized white
EPSN 2002 fantasy football league champion
t-shirt, but that’s OK, for I have been saved by Ted Nugent –
I can triumphantly and thankfully wipe the blood spatter
off of my face and say, “Ted Nugent! Dude, that was
fuckin’ awesome! Let’s go to Cherry St. Tavern
and let me buy you a beer!”

*        *        *        *        *

But where are you Ted Nugent?
Where are you as I say for the fifth time
to my robber how it is my sincere and
honest intention to cooperate with him
in every way possible as rapidly as possible
to the best of my ability to expedite this robbery
in as quickly and efficiently
a manner as is humanly possible –
even though I am thinking that still
somehow, against all odds you may appear,
which is why I am now in the process of faking a severe
back spasm (“Sorry, but I get these sometimes…
running keeps my back loose, but as you know
I haven’t been running as much as I used to lately…)
still hoping you will come.

*        *        *        *        *

Ted Nugent, why have you refused to
ride the streets of the our cities on your
four-wheeled ATV fighting injustice
with your powerful bow?

Ted Nugent, why you have failed to formed an army of
urban warrior vigilantes based on the Guardian Angels,
but tons more bad ass because they would
ride four-wheeled ATV’s and kill people with
high-powered hunting bows,
and be even more bad ass from a simple sartorial POV
because they would all dress like you,
eschewing the effeminate (i.e. French)
look of the red beret in favor of
cowboy hats with long ostrich plumes
and leather vests, and wearing blond wigs,
specifically formulated to correspond
with a picture of you in the May 1975 edition of Cream,
and Ted Nugent masks, so no one would know
who the real Ted Nugent is, increasing the fear –
but, thinking about it now, no, I guess
the primary reason they’d be more bad ass than
the Guardian angels really does come down to
the use of gas-powered four-wheeled ATVs
in an urban environment and the group’s
stated intent to dispense vigilante justice
in the form of an arrow through the neck.

*        *        *        *        *

Ted Nugent, I need you Ted Nugent to move from
70’s guitar hero turned right-wing nutcase
to 70’s guitar hero turned right-wing nutcase THEN
turned urban vigilante crime-fighter.

Because if not you, Ted Nugent, who?
Steve Howe? Brian May?
They’re all on tour. They still have (sort of)
music careers. And do you really think
they know a fucking thing about putting
an arrow through the neck of an evil-doer
(or doe) at 50 yards while riding a Black King Quad 700
no-handed while moving at 30 MPH.
No. They’d use their guitars and be slaughtered
like pigs. Steve Howe wouldn’t even have
the sense to use an electric guitar, but would enter
his doomed encounter sporting a 12-string acoustic guitar,
and middle-aged men like me would no longer
be able to attend (sort of) “Yes” and (sort of)”Queen” concerts
and imagine that even though Freddie Mercury
is dead and Jon Anderson insists on touring
as himself, that, as long as we don’t look too closely
at the fake Freddie Mercury and Jon Anderson
fronting the bands, that this really is Yes or Queen.

*        *        *        *        *

Ted Nugent, you could be glorious!
Why must you hunt deer like every other
typical run-of-the-mill boring bow-hunter
in the safety of the far-off woods
when there is so much injustice in the
urban jungle that needs an arrow through the neck?

*        *        *        *        *

Ted Nugent, I have grown tired of waiting.
I have given my wallet over.

Unbeknownst to my robber,
the folded $50 bill tucked in
the left side of the billfold
triggers a booby-trap
which will release a small cloud
of custom-formulated nerve agent
which will cause a catastrophic
cerebral hemorrhage. I am tracking him
now and, if like most robbers,
he removes the contents of the wallet
within a four-block radius
I have only another block to follow him
before he’s down and I can retrieve
my wallet and head home.

But in comparison to what could have been,
me and you Ted Nugent gazing triumphantly
down over the corpse of a would-be urban robber,
his head resting is a growing pool of blood,
the feathers of the arrow through his neck
fluttering in the gentle breeze of the night
– can you understand how this feels so unsatisfactory?

Opening Day

For some,
it means baseball –
as if baseball
were a good thing.

For me,
it means that it’s not
football season,
and soon,
it will no longer be
hockey season
or basketball season.

*     *     *     *     *

Opening day means
that baseball fans will now start to
come out in droves on game night
to clog the expressways during rush hour,
adding a half hour to everyone’s commute,
causing a mother to miss the
birth of her first son
via surrogate,
causing a father to miss his daughter’s dance recital,
leaving the poor young girl feeling betrayed and empty –
an emptiness she will attempt to fill by
covering her body with tattoos and dating
musicians.

And these baseball-lovers, the driving force
behind the break-up of the American family,
will have the unmitigated gall to
wear their baseball hats,
the audacity to brandish their baseball decals
and their baseball bumper stickers,
and fly their baseball window pennants,
and as you sit behind them,
these people, all listening to the same
pre-game show blaring from their radios,
you wonder where it all went wrong –
how there could be so many people
who would not only voluntarily
attend a baseball game but
actually PAY MONEY for that “privilege?”

And these great crowds of drivers,
will push traffic to Jam-factor 10,
and will bring all traffic to a total and complete halt,
and by doing so will delay impede ambulances off on urgent calls
to and from those at deaths door,
to rescue the man who is valiantly clinging to life
after a myocardial infarction,
the woman who has suffered
a hemorrhagic stroke,
the freak who has shoved a red
Xfinity Triple-Play stress ball
deep up his ass which has had the effect of
pushing up the first two already in there
far beyond the point of retrieval without medical intervention,
and many a good man or woman
or freak of the triple stress ball rectal implantation ilk
will be lost because of baseball.

*     *     *     *     *

And opening day means that the heat will come,
and with the heat will come the drought,
and with the drought will come the famine and the
rampant and uncontrollable wildfires,
and with the rampant and uncontrollable wildfires
will come great conflagrations
spreading out across the plains,
spreading down across the hills of California,
engulfing homes,
engulfing food trucks,
engulfing homemade deer hunting shacks,
and those lucky animals that are not engulfed
by these the great fires
will surely die of thirst in the drought
or starvation in the famine.

*     *     *     *     *

And with opening day will come the mosquitos,
and with the mosquitos the crickets,
and with the crickets the frogs and toads,
and with frogs and toads will come the horse flies,
and with the horse flies the man-eating raccoons,
and with the man-eating raccoons the
the fleas of the man-eating raccoon,
and with the fleas of the man-eating racoon
the plague carried by, and unique to,
the flea of the man-eating raccoon,
and many a good man and woman,
and many an innocent child will die from
the plague emanating from the first pitch
in the Majors.

*     *     *     *     *

And opening day means
the foul stench of death
will rise up from the subways,
will rise up from the dumpsters,
will rise up in the creeks,
will rise up from the county sewage treatment plant,
will rise up in the places that smell,
like death in normal times
but now smell even more deathly
due to the fact that baseball is now being played,
and death and pestilence will hang
over the land
until NFL training camps open
the last week of July.

*     *     *     *     *

And opening day means that children,
smart children, intelligent children,
children who though merely 8,9,10 years old
have the capacity to cure the diseases that have stumped
our so-called finest minds for decades
if only these precocious, pint-sized Jonas Salks were given
full and complete access to a major medical research facility,
these children, rather than spending their summers curing cancer
or writing precocious letters to the director of the
Duke Medical Center beginning with the lines
“I read your colleague’s recent article in
The New England Journal of Medicine
and the utter paucity of insight, imagination and results
makes me want to rent my lab garments over what the peer review
system has come to in that little rag.
My name is Jimmy Wilson,
and I am here to save your institution from its continuing barbarity
in their field of Intracranial Stenosis…”
these children,
the potential saviors of our race,
will NOT be writing such letters.
They will be brainwashed by an
insidious introduction to “the thinking man’s sport”
so-named because there is obviously
so much empty space
where nothing happens
one can only think
“why am I watching this?”
These geniuses, these children who would
become the Babe Ruths, the Willie Mays,
the Pete Roses, the Lenny Dykstras,
the Jose Cansecos, the Mark MacQuires,
of their respective scientific fields
will be told to stand in the outfield
and shag some flies
or head out to short and take some grounders
or stand at home plate for some BP
and when game time comes,
these children,
these children who haven’t yet succumbed
to the drought or the famines or the wildfires or the plague,
the majority of them will die from sheer boredom,
dropping dead right there on the spot,
generally in the 4th, 5th or 6th innings.
The lucky ones, the ones with an instinct to survive,
these children will simply throw off their gloves
and turn to the outfield fence with a vacant stare
and begin walking towards it,
and despite the pleas from parents and coaches
and umpires,
will hop the fence
and continue walking
and begin a lifetime of wandering
trying to get as far from baseball as possible –
and they will never be heard from again.

And parents who in their heart
are football fans
or hockey fans
or basketball fans
and knew that signing their
son or daughter up for little league
rather than let them spend all available free time
doing important scientific research
in makeshift labs in their basement,
complete with homemade centrifuges
cobbled together with parts from
old lawn mowers and re-gifted cuisinarts,
these bereaved parents will go to
the league commissioner
and scream at him, plead with him
as if he could make them come back
“Why? Why did we sign him up?
Because it was the right thing to do?
We thought it was the right thing to do.”
And they will look into his eyes imploringly,
as if he could absolve them of their guilt.
“It was the right thing to do? Right?
Please tell us it was the right thing to do
Please. Please. Please.”
And both parents will break down in tears,
laying their heads on either
of his shoulders, sobbing violently,
and the commissioner can only
pat their heads and say,
“That’s OK. You did the right thing.
This isn’t the first time this has happened –
and it won’t be the last.”
And tears will well up in his eyes
as he gazes at the flagpole in left center
near the spot where all three of
his own sons took off on the same journey
and disappeared –
never to be heard from again.

*     *     *     *     *

Yes.
opening day.
For some, it means
baseball –
as if baseball were
a good thing.

For me it means
baseball –
and that is the obvious problem.

There Is No Explanation For Our Puss (A Contemporary Sonnet)

There is no explanation for our puss,
Not on the Mayo site or WebMD,
That would make sense for either one of us,
an explanation received comfortably,

For surely neither one of us has strayed
Afar from vows that bind us until death,
Apart from that one time I blithely played
The lover to my secretary Beth.

I know that I’ve been faithful ever since,
So tell me Alice what to make of this
Have you fair maiden found another prince?
Is this the reason why it hurts to piss?

I know the answer darling – don’t look shocked.
Oh Alice, you should keep your cellphone locked.

The Miracle of the Tractor

1And it came that The Master and his followers were walking through farm country.

2They came upon a cornfield and saw a farmer attempting to repair a tractor.

3“Farmer, what is wrong with your tractor?” asked The Master.

4“It just conked out all of a sudden,” said the farmer. “I’ve been running it pretty hard all morning.”

5The Master touched the engine of the tractor.

6He turned to the farmer and said, “Farmer, get up in your seat and start your tractor.”

7The farmer did as the Master had said and the tractor immediately started.

8Then The Master said to his Followers, “I have come to help to bring the harvest home, for the corn must not lie fallow in fields when my children are starving.”

9“Actually, this is all going to ethanol production,” said the farmer.

10The Master turned and stared at the tractor until it started billowing thick black smoke and came to stop with a thunderous groan, never to be driven again.

11“But Master, will not the corn now lie fallow?” asked Pieter.

12“The corn has already gone to those who need it,” said the Master.

13And his Followers looked at the cornstalks and saw that miraculously all of the ears of corn had been picked bare.

14“What the fuck?” said the farmer. “Who the hell are you? What did you do to my Deere?”

15But the Master and his followers had already moved on.

“What We Need Is a New Reality-Based, Rational Brand of Empathy More In Line With the That Can-Do American Spirit!”

If you are starving, you just need to eat more.

If you are sick, you need to be more healthy.

If you’re too thin – become fatter.
If you’re too fat – get thinner.

If you are homeless, you need to find a place to live – winters are brutal here.

If you live in a neighborhood wracked by drugs and violence, then you need to pick up stakes and move out – no time for sentimentality!

If you are functionally illiterate, you must learn to read – pronto!

If your life is being ruined by addiction to drugs or alcohol, you need to find some backbone and stop poisoning yourself. You’ll thank yourself later!

If you live in a rat-infested dwelling, you need to go out and buy traps or borrow a large cat that loves to hunt rats until all the rats are gone. Problem solved!

If you live in a roach-infested dwelling, you need to do a better job of cleaning up after yourself. DO NOT leave food out overnight. DO NOT leave dirty dishes on the floor or in the sink. DO put all take-out containers in a covered trash receptacle. If you’re not doing that, then you deserve to wake up covered in roaches!

If your children are dirty and in dressed rags, then you need to place a greater emphasis on personal hygiene and cultivate their fashion sense. I suggest a fragrance sampler and a subscription to Vogue or GQ.

If your 3-hour round-trip commute to your second minimum-wage job leaves you feeling broken and exhausted, then obviously you need to find something closer. You’ll find you have more pep once you do!

If you’re down and out, you need to just grit your teeth and pull yourself up by your bootstraps – plenty of folks in even worse shape than you have done it.

If you find yourself living paycheck to paycheck, then take your next paycheck and don’t spend it. Do the same with the next one and the next one after that and the next one after that. Soon, you’ll have a nice little nest egg to fall back on when times get tough!

If you’re poor, you need to understand that poverty is often simply be a case of income and expenses being out of whack.

To raise yourself out of poverty, first, try a little belt-tightening and reign in needless expenses (i.e. expensive perfumes, magazine subscriptions, etc.).

If that doesn’t work, you may need to turn to the income side of the equation. The good news is that the quickest way to stop being poor is to have more money. The even better news is that the easiest way to have more money is simply to get a better paying job. There are tens if not hundreds of thousands of jobs listed on career sites like Monster.com, Careerbuilder.com, TheLadders.com, and SixFigureJobs.com. Magazines like The Economist and Forbes often run ads for very well-paid positions in exotic locations. One of these is for you! What are you waiting for?!

I hope it’s not a hand-out!


A friend of mine who had lost his job last year at my company was profiled in a HuffingtonPost story about what failing to extend unemployment benefits would mean for families affected by its outcome.

The article was heartbreaking (in one section, my friend’s daughter asks her father, “Does this mean we are not going to have Christmas this year?”), but what affected me almost as much as the article itself was the comments section, where rather than look at my friend as a human being and empathizing w/ him, they used him as a whipping boy to promote their ideological leanings, painting him as an example of everything that’s wrong with [insert axe to grind here], and offering a host of overly simplistic solutions to remedy his situation.

Tell Us About Your RightLite AutoGlass Experience

My windshield had been hit by a random rock on the commute, and after driving around for 2 days watching the crack widen, I finally reconciled myself with the fact that I needed to get it replaced. I mentioned my dilemma to a work associate and she said, “You should call RightLite. They’ll come out and replace your windshield right here at work.” That sounded great to me!

After checking with my insurance company, I made the appointment online and waited for the ladies at the front desk to call and tell me your service guy arrived.

I got the call in about a half-hour – amazingly fast.

Walking out to our front parking lot, I guess I expected to be faced with middle-aged guy with some middle-aged paunch named Bart, or Guy – maybe even Gus – but boy was I surprised to see who was there waiting for me.

I did not expect baby pandas!

Those four little fellas were so friggin’ awesome! Now, I don’t consider myself the type to go ga-ga over “cutesiness.” Photos of kittens and puppies doing their amusing little kitten and puppies things – they generally have me going “OK, it’s a kitten.” But these little guys were SO cute and SO cuddly I just couldn’t help myself! The largest one, who seemed to be the foreman, knew just the right amount of time to let me with cuddle them before giving me the hint that it was time to let them get to work.

And work they did! They worked those little panda asses off – or whatever they have back there.

They told me it would be about an hour and a half, but at the 45-minute mark – yes, I was timing it – the front desk called and said “The baby pandas say your windshield’s done.”

Wow! Cute, cuddly and they finish their work early?

I knew some kind of tip was order, but I never have cash on me anymore, so I looked around and I just happened to have 4 cans of tuna on a shelf in my cube. I figured that would do just fine. Only thing is, I didn’t know whether I should open the cans prior to handing them over or let them open them themselves. I decided on the latter.

The baby panda foreman was polite when I offered him the tuna, striking just the right tone between “No, really, that’s not necessary” and “Fuck yeah! We love tuna!”

(And it turns out my instinct was correct – baby pandas prefer opening the cans on their own.)

Needless to say, I hope I don’t need to replace my windshield any time soon, but if I do, no doubt I will be calling you guys again and I will be definitely recommending your service to anyone in need of windshield replacement.

FAQs: Lead-Shed Weight-Loss Fashions

What are Lead-Shed Weight-Loss Fashions?

Lead-Shed Weight-Loss Fashions are the #1 way to lose weight without dieting, exercising or dangerous pills, gels or solutions .

How is it possible to lose weight without dieting, exercising or dangerous pills, gels or solutions?

Every day, your body burns calories in ways you probably weren’t even aware of. Each time you get up from a chair, walk to your car, walk to the printer – you are burning calories! And these calories add up!

The genius behind Lead-Shed Weight-Loss Fashions is a simple formula:

force TIMES distance EQUALS normal calories MINUS work EQUALS weight loss PLUS added strength

Can you explain that without the math?

Sure.

Imagine you get up from your kitchen table to walk to get a cup of coffee. Good for you! You’ve just burned calories!

Now, imagine doing the same thing, only this time you are carrying a backpack filled with 100 lbs. of sharp rocks. Good for you! You’ve just burned more calories carrying those 100 lbs. of sharp rocks than you would have without them – all while doing the same mundane act!

Weighing myself down with a backpack full of sharp rocks to reach my weight-loss goal sounds painful. Is there another way?

Yes there is! There’s the Lead-Shed Way!

Let’s go back to your kitchen for some more coffee – you certainly like coffee don’t you?

We’ve replaced that uncomfortable backpack filled with 100 lbs. of sharp rocks with that same 100 lbs. of weight, but, this time, we’ve distributed it evenly across your entire skin surface, allowing you to do the same amount of work you would do wearing the equivalent of 100 lbs. of sharp rocks – but you’re completely comfortable!

So Lead-Shed is like a second skin that is very heavy?

No! Lead-Shed IS a second skin that is very heavy – and very comfortable!

How can a 100-pound layer of lead worn like a second skin be so comfortable?

The answer? Lead-Shed’s Ultra-Weave Nano-Tech Technology combined with the natural density of lead combined with a proprietary super-heavy super-substance we call Element PS-HS-S.

The result? A comfortable, breathable second skin that forces your body to DO MORE while you’re doing the same things as before!

The result of the result? You DO MORE and LOSE MORE while not having to DO MORE!

Imagine doing the same old same old and getting a new you! That’s the Lead-Shed way!

Will I become lopsided or will some muscle groups develop unevenly?

No worries there. Lead-Shed is distributed 100% evenly across 100% of your surface area using a 100% Total Tone Philosophy. If you’re naturally – or unnaturally – lopsided or have overdeveloped muscle groups, bulges, “spare tires”, or “junk in the trunk”, we guarantee you that Lead-Shed, if worn over a sufficient amount of time, will NOT add to your lopsided or unevenness, but may even make it go away.

However, if you need immediate, “like yesterday” results, we have another product called “Sir Compress-a-Lot” which is aimed at compression. Though it’s still in beta-testing as we work out some minor kinks related to numbness and fainting due to severe restriction of blood flow, you may qualify as a beta-tester once you’ve completed the application and signed the necessary medical waivers.

What types of weights are available?

Our Lead-Shed line comes in a wide variety of styles, models and increments – from our super-light 16 lb. “Svelte Sixteen” model to our best-selling men’s “So This is Forty” 40-pounder all the way up to the 500 lb. Biggest Loser model (please note, the Biggest Loser model is in no way associated with the television program of the same name that uses outdated methods of diet and exercise to achieve weight loss results).

Can I choose from a wide variety of exciting, stylish colors?

Absolutely! You can have any color Lead-Shed as long as it’s black.

Can I wear Lead-Shed while “making the two backed beast”, during “that sweaty business” or when “doing the nasty?”

Yes. Lead-Shed comes with proprietary “Go Time” Flaps so you can easily engage in coitus when the mood and/or level of alcohol in your system and/or level of ED medication in your system is right. And before you even ask…

…what’s also great is that these “Go Time” Flaps work the same way if you “need to see a man about a horse” or it’s “log time.”

Will I be protected from radiation while wearing Lead-Shed?

Lead-Shed makes no specific claims regarding protection from radiation. However, in the sense that after wearing Lead-Shed you will be more fit and healthy and therefore less likely to need a trip to the emergency room where x-rays may be performed as part of routine diagnostic procedures, the answer is – absolutely yes!

So I can continue eating my high-fat, high-sugar diet combined with an activity level generously described as “sloth-like” AND lose weight?

Yes! You lose weight not my asking yourself “Am I losing weight”, but by turning the questions on it’s head: “Have I put on enough weight?” – literally?

What if I wanted to keep pathetically inactive and actually increase the amount of food I’m eating – for example, eat a dozen donuts for breakfast, an entire pizza for lunch, and have a dinner of 3 Big Macs and 3 large fries? Would Lead-Shed let me do that and keep my present weight?

The only limit is the limit you put on yourself, Grasshopper!

Will insurance pay for Lead-Shed?

That’s the great news! Insurance carriers are always looking for ways to make their insured healthier and fitter and since it is the stated goal of Lead-Shed to make you more healthy and fit, there seems to be no reason why they wouldn’t pay for it!

And before you ask another question – I have one for you. How many calories would you have burned reading this if you were wearing Lead-Shed?

Every minute you are not wearing Lead-Shed, you are failing to burn calories. So why wait?

Start to DO MORE and LOSE MORE by DOING THE SAME THINGS today!