Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Winged Victory

There has been some unfortunate derogatory female discussion as to whether or not a burnished winged helmet is sufficient in and of itself to attract women. Only Boris was savvy enough to instinctively recognize the truth in this, even to the point of intuiting that the addition of a Camel cigarette in the (probably sneering) lips of the helmeted one would obviously emit enough pheromonic karma to effect a full knee-buckle swoon in even the most too-much-protesting of frails, to not quote Shakespeare. This is pure scientific fact, of course, proven daily by watching the most educated of lab-babes lose the long white lab jackets and involuntarily begin to froth at the wafting passing or even semi-nearness of your standard tatooed long-haired bad boy metalhead lead singer. Also included in the body of evidence (which can be obtained by sending a self-addressed pre-stamped envelope to Boris, along with €200 in currency) is the origin of Conan's third law of conquest, "The more educated and scholarly the female test subject, especially if she has a background in IT, the more shallowly susceptible to raw maleness they are." Or, as Adullamite so concisely explained it recently, "Of course I love you. Now bring me a beer."

I will go ahead and put a paragraph break here, just in case I should have done so above. Not sure. Irish rules of grammar don't really call for paragraph breaks, and Irish rules are what are being used in this post, of course.

I remind you that the IT statement is included in Conan's Canon, and is not something Relax Max himself would ever say or even think, for gosh sakes.

Many of you long-time lovers of truth will remember that I have addressed this phenomenon before within the sacred pages of the earlier incarnation of this award-winning blog, but obviously it needs repeating because some newbie readers of the female persuasion are still living in denial, even delusion.

I could simply put a link to that earlier blog post HERE, but I know none of you will bother going to read it. Hence, the pertinent portion of that storied post's wisdom is repeated below. Please file this on your iPad under "Edify: I stand corrected." Gracias.

The wisdom of how to pick up girls (especially the aloof-feigning ones) is reprinted below. Those of you who would actually jump in the car will remain nameless, but you know who you are.

As if this [Lidian's] post wasn't sufficiently droll enough on its own merits, it reminded me of another ad on tv about something called a "Mr. Microphone." By Ronco, of course. Ron Popeil is my personal idol, without whom we would never have had the Vegematic or the black string stuff you can spray on bald spots, and so much more. My absolute idol. I swear to god. [Note: I no longer swear to god. And Popeil has been long-since been replaced by Desmond Llewelyn as my invention hero. ]

In the tv commercial, a carload of obnoxious guys pull up at a stoplight next to a babe in another car and one of them harasses her by talking into a cheap plastic microphone that transmits a low quality signal over her car radio. Like she couldn't hear the creep anyway, since they are both in convertibles. You may remember the commercial if you were unfortunate enough to have been alive in the late 1970s and watched late night old movies. That is what the old ad on Lidian's Kitchen Retro reminded me of - that old Mr. Microphone tv commercial.

Right now you are probably thinking wishing hoping that this post is over so you can leave and go drop on someone else, but the Mr. Microphone commercial reminded me of my third digression: that of a carload of young males cruising main street for girls to pick up. Trolling trolls. Maybe you remember.

The way it works is to find an unpopular guy in school who has a car and cram about 15 pimply-faced male adolescents into it, so that several of them are forced to hang out the windows, and then drive slowly down the main drag hoping to pick up a pretty girl. Why? I don't know. Perhaps they somehow dreamed they could all make love to her in the back seat and then drop her off before they ran out of their $2 worth of gas. It doesn't matter because there never seemed to be any girls, pretty or otherwise, who were looking to jump in the back seat of an old car loaded with 15 pimply-faced vulgar-mouthed teenaged virgins. But it was a rite of passage, and I was reminded of it when I thought of the crass dope with Ron Popeil's Mr. Microphone. Which in turn was brought to mind by the even older magazine ad on Lidian's blog about the Radio Microphone that would help you practice your voice. Or whatever.

Here I should be plain, in case any of you new readers get the wrong idea, that Relax Max has never personally participated in any packed-car pimply-faced "Here Chicky Chicky" main street trolling rituals. For the record, Max was cool. Is cool. Whatever. He had his own car and wore sunglasses and smoked filterless Camel cigarettes and therefore never had any trouble getting plenty of sex whenever he wanted it. (This foolproof "Camel Cigarette Sexual Attraction" technique is outlined in another of Lidian's old ad posts.)

No, Max was talking about other boys.


  1. And you think *I'm* delusional?

    No females think winged hats are attractive unless (a) the girl is under the age of eight or (b) they are a Roman slave girl from the year 212 BC transplanted in our time through one of Boris' space-time wormholes.

    I'd say ditto for the cigarettes, but then I've never quite understood the allure of inhaling smoke. On purpose. So, I'll shrug and say that doesn't attract me.

  2. Dear Max, your first paragraph was sublime, especially since it mentioned my name (twice!) which, as we all know, improves the quality of any post by .7 points on the logarithmic Imothep-Legradic scale. Clearly, while we may not agree on socio-political issues, we are on the same wavelength where the important stuff, i.e. winged headgear, is concerned.

    Unfortunately, the car-cruising ritual you described farther down does not really exist in Europe, most probably because we don't have any cars here. I tried it with a bicycle, but this only ended in tears and recriminations, so I guess I managed to copy the gist of the afore-mentioned ritual.

    Lastly, I wanted to move that we ignore Stephanie, who is either in deep denial about winged helmets, or has been transplanted to our time from the year 3012 AD by one of my space-time warping wormholes, and was brainwashed during transit by the lizard-men of dimension Q (not X, as recent research has shown), who detest winged helmets and don't want us to get laid. Now please excuse me, while I toddle off in search for a winged helmet.

  3. I understand what you're driving at, Conan or no Conan. Never toot your own horn.
    Zechariah 1:18. "And I lifted up mine eyes, and saw, and behold four horns."

  4. Take thou no scorn to wear the horn;
    It was a crest ere thou wast born:
    Thy father's father wore it,
    And thy father bore it:
    The horn, the horn, the lusty horn
    Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.

  5. Take thou no zing to wear the wing
    T'was worn as proudly as any bling
    Thy father's father wore it,
    Even dinosaurs bore it:
    The wing, the wing, the lusty wing
    Is not a thing to laugh or zing.

    With apologies to the Bard.

  6. You found me out, Boris. I *am* from 3012, which is why I know better than to be attracted to a man wearing a winged helmet because, as we discovered during the winged helmet craze of '04, winged helmets cause impotence.

    Capes, on the other hand, capes are tremendously effective on the female gender.

  7. What? Noooo!
    I knew I should have gone into microbiology and researched cloning! Maybe I can ask my supervisor if he would mind me changing subjects?

  8. Horn or wing, they sneer and joust. Have they no mirrored glass?
    Why not a helm with one big spike if one must look like an ass?
    The quest for perfect headwear is a loss 'fore one begins it.
    It not the hat or helm that counts, but the head one has within it.

  9. Now you know, Boris. Best get a cape if you want to get cozy with one of my many clones in 3012 (in case you pop through a S-T tear into my little world). Though the spear could get you noticed as well.

  10. But, fair lady, tell me true:
    What is a knave to do
    if betwixt jawbone and helmeted skull
    resides a void, grey matter dull?

    Nay, I say
    be-wing my pate
    for even on an empty slate
    wings imply majestic state
    which females surely highly rate!

    Still, for your sage advice,
    my gratitude knows no bounds nor price
    my soon-to-be decanted clone
    will bow before your future throne!

  11. Evidence regarding the seductive power of winged helmets:

    Hermes' son

  12. Women know you are right about the helmet but being female always deny the truth out of mere spite.
    Wear such a helmet in any street and you will soon draw a crowd of admiring young women, and a few older ones. Add the news that you have money and a stampede will result! The mere fact that the police riot squad will have to rescue you is proof indeed of the drawing power of helmets and cash.

    Of course the discovery that you have one winged helmet and no real cash does lead to a reaction from said females.
    Beating to death with used stiletto's usually!

  13. Nice, you never fail to get me to laugh.

    keep up the great work.

  14. I have been most amused by this discussion.
    Even though I have lurked silently in the shadows.
    Your Rocket Scientist seems to be immune to the charms of the winged helmet.
    Let me tell you, when I was a schoolboy, I was the ninety seven pound weakling who got sand kicked in his face. You remember me in the ads?
    Well, I saw the ad for "Legradic Novelty Inc", I sent off my money, and less than three weeks later a parcel arrived, and in my room I unwrapped my Winged Helmet.
    Oh my!
    The first excursion was actually quite scary.. Girls followed me with their eyes, they fell off their bicycles, swooned into their soup.
    The power of the helmet was too great. I had to put a paper bag over one wing in order to protect the feminine populace. Believe me, wear a winged helmet and the wenches are straight to unbuckling your accoutrements.

  15. Yes, unbuckling of accoutrements had to happen....

  16. @Stephanie - How sadly misguided. And you don't inhale the smoke or even light it anymore. It is merely placed (hung) from the corner of Wingman's disdainfully curled lip.

    @Boris - I loved your spear. Amazing. A winged helmet, a hanging cigarette, a shining spear. A loose loincloth...

    @Sheila - odd you should quote Zechariah's dream because he goes on to talk about women in the heavens with wings.

    @A. - That's touching. Shakespeare? Pinky Lee?

    I prefer the sly eroticism of the profit Isaiah: "..they shall "mount up" as with the wings of eagles; they shall run and not be weary; walk and not faint; love until the wings of morning..."

    Or similar. Perhaps I should double-check. :)

    @Adullamite - if you own a proper winged helmet, you will have gold in your pockets.

    And rings on your fingers and bells on your toes and a bone in your nose ho ho.

    @Jeff - I will keep it up. It's hard not to with a winged helmet.

    @Soubriquet - I believe much of what you said. I remember your beach ad. :)

  17. Good God, RM, were you quoting from "Ahab the Arab" by Ray Stevens? If you're going to quote from Ray Stevens on this subject, wouldn't you do better to quote "Eric the Awful"? Though, of course, he had a hair hat shaped like a big bullet with two horns growin' out the side.



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