Your welcome. Just doing my part for the Old Burning Bastards charity campaign. Do I get a vintage BM t-shirt or something? Let's see...
Rob the Wop wrote: So heres some more ammo- prior Navy CB, computer nerd, large Silicilian family, I have a hairy back, I live in a Northwest suburban neighborhood that's considered by some as redneckish, gun nut, ACLU member, and I drive an electric car. There must be SOMETHING in there you have a witty insult for, or maybe you could get someone to think up one for you.
Once upon a time, Rob and his large Silicilian family were looking for a way to get in the business, but they weren't getting much respect, likely because everyone else knew how much goat DNA was mixed in the bloodline of those hairy backed bastards. Needing some capital to start their own thing, they give young Rob a gun and some ammo and tell him to rob the nearest bank. Much to their dismay Rob rolls the nearest Sperm Bank and accidentally shoots himself in the left nut along the way. Why he voluntarily shot himself in the right nut afterwards is a true mystery.
Without many options they decide what the hell, and endevour to conquer the northeast sperm bank market. Rob enjoys terrorizing donors at banks that refuse to pay the family. He liked making them wank off while watching him dressed up as a porky anna nicole smith do an erotic drunken s&m belly dance routine with three ex-con midget transvestites. It was during this time that Rob developed the strange fetish which would change his life forever. He began drinking spooge & liquor cocktails and thus began the hunt for the perfect blends.
He joined the Navy as a ploy to collect semen for his experimentations, and using his computer skills he began keeping elaborate databases on his shipmate donors. After several years he had put the finishing touches on a program that would do a protein analysis on a sample and provide the perfect liquors to accompanying it. Rob designs and installs electric mixer units in his empty ballsack so he can satisfy his craving anytime. He charges his mixer-balls while driving the electric car.
Back home he decides to market his creations and begins construction efforts. A large still in the backyard, a disco room & love den for collecting human samples & supplies, pen for goats, sheep, etc for collecting animal samples, small hill for when Rob feels like getting it on with animals, and other home improvements which lower the property value of his entire suburban neighborhood and incites people to start calling it "redneckish".
Rob runs into small problem with FDA refusing to allow him to sell his creations. After sending samples of his Jiz-N-Gin to his family, they decline to provide coercion assistance. He joins the ACLU and attempts to enlist them in pursuing his constitutional right to sell his products. Legal fees and years of court battle take their toll and in the end, secret research is brought forth which proves Jiz-N-Gin causes testicular cancer, and Rob's products are banned by the FDA.
His dreams ruined, Rob began attending Burning Man to work out his frsutrations with the government & society, as well as occasionally offer samples of his outlawed creations. Once in a while he dresses in a GW mask, PJs, and pink bunnies slippers, holds his nutsack and hugs himself to sleep and deeply misses his original balls.
