One observes that the median masculine man is enthusiastically submissive to pornography. Beginning at puberty and often surviving marriage, a real man drowns in intractable incessant sexual fantasy. Polaroid photography, home video, laser disks, and finally DvDs feed an insatiable appetite for lust by proxy. If the plastic American product galls, Germany and Japan will abundantly supply audiovisual input rawly pledged to leave one disquieted about being a mammal. This is the small stuff. If you wish to implode your testosterone-poisoned man, get him a McMaster-Carr catalog.
I remember my first time. I walked into a Home Depot and stared, mouth hanging open, tongue lolling, spit dripping, and my brain set ablaze. Sex is one thing, but 200 different kinds of screws and bolts are everything! Phantasmagoria of sprinkler fittings, bug poisons, electrical fittings... every tape, glue, and brush known to mankind... and, in one corner behind armored barriers, POWER TOOLS.
Listening to Wymyn's Lip gesticulating about taking back the night is an exercise of bathos. Do you want your man to stop looking at other women? Get him a 0.38 blank-powered cement nail gun. Give him a needlepoint catalog, point him toward the sidewalk, and stand back. Every other male in the neighborhood will run toward him carrying sixpacks (freshly drawn microbrewery samples in the best neighborhoods, but no matter - they will still run), sweating in place and whimpering in need.
McMaster-Carr is better.
Only the worthy get a 3500 page McMaster-Carr catalog. We're not talking worthy like walking on water or having dinner with your momma every Friday. No small stuff! If your Stanley hammer has a tuning fork inside its handle to dynamically damp vibration when you drive a 20d nail into a 100-year old oak beam, get in line. Do you need a whole bucket of steel-filled two-part epoxy? If you have conquered a continent and now want bathroom fittings for 60 million, McMaster-Carr has them on its shelves. McMaster- Carr stocks in excess of 400,000 different items, and 98% of them are ready to ship right now. Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god.
The ordinary man knows nothing of McMaster-Carr. He lives his empty life hung over, stinking, stubbled, and extracurricularly horny while wondering how he will pay for the next packing crate of pantyhose for his wife and daughter. The chosen few know that heaven exists a mere phone call away. None of that 800 toll-free number crap, either. If you want to see the show you pay admission at the gate as does any real man. (Lesbians are OK if their 28-inch guns are sunburned and tastefully tattooed.)
Uncle Al has a McMaster-Carr catalog. It sits at a place of honor beneath and before his computer. We're talking cherished! (All the Windoze manuals are stacked on a stereo speaker where they improve bass response.) You can thus imagine the visceral response had by all present when in the Spring of 2003 during a monthly labeling of nearly 1000 Orange County Mensa newsletters, one fellow casually remarked
"I got a job with McMaster-Carr."
It was like discovering your new brother-in-law was the Pope's proctologist and he had JPEGS. Even if you do not care, you have to look. (Do you remember the softball-sized mass removed from the Pontiff's colon in 1992 that was curiously indistinguishable from a first trimester fetus, consistent with both anticipated millennial timing and rampant Catholic priestly passions?)
This is a man (the Mensan, not the Vicar of Christ) who in a moment can gasp seven different lengths of cylindrical conveyor brushes, 55-gallon drums of Simple Green cleanser, and a full gross size assortment of "double-end Two- and Four-Flute End Mills Center Cutting" - not counting carbide, TiN, TiCN, TiAlN, chamfering, dovetail, corner-rounding, fast-spiral, countersinking, indexable, single-angle, or Woodruff keyseat options! McMaster-Carr also sells end mill storage cabinets and boxes in which to ship them.
We're talking 210 pages of pipes and hoses, 350 pages of fasteners, 200 pages of office supplies, 140 pages of hardware... and all the copy is in tiny little letters. Surely heaven can be no better than this, 72 black-eyed virgins or otherwise. The McMaster-Carr index has seven entries for vibrators and not one of them lacks the siren song of 240 V, horsepower, or kilowatts. Nobody arrives disappointed because McMaster-Carr also stocks vibratory finishing media. Corncobs never had it so good.
One among us rides on the shoulders of giants. One among us is arbiter of all pleasures real and imagined. One among us is a colossus of McMaster-Carr.