Meet Scott Taylor. Today Scott is a well respected porn mogul, but that wasn't always the case. Flashback to the glory years of 1985 and witness the Billy Mays of penis pump salesmen.
Honestly, after making it to the end of this $27.00 budgeted shit show I'm inclined to believe the historical artifact should have stayed forgotten. The full version is over an hour long and makes The Blair Witch Project look like it's part of the Scorsese catalog. I do not recommend.
Little engines that just fucking couldn't. If there was a "Special Olympics" for sexual performance, these guys would still be the underdogs of the league.
Kinda want to emphasize those gravity bags reaching maximum velocity around the 5:00 minute mark. Jell-o has spent over 100 years trying to market physics like this and have failed miserably in comparison. Turns out all you need is a 1-bedroom apartment in Latvia and a c-section scar to make math fun again.
Nothing says reinventing a franchise quite like admitting to the world that you have a fetish even the truckers of America aren't paying for in Walmart parking lots. Now give this so many views, The Rock won't be able to turn down being in the sequel.
You know you had fun when the next day you wake up with a concussion and realize you not only left your phone, but you also forgot your clothes, underwear, sunglasses and self-respect at the club.
Remember the frigid chick that randomly started sobbing in the middle of a Rocco shoot? It was actually pretty touching, to both my heart & my penis. But apparently that encounter was only chapter 1 in a saga of piss-poor decisions.
Is this still considered pornography? Or something that gets submitted to a performative art school as a final project? Because if you're waxin carrot to shit like this, it might be is definitely time for intervention.
Today's lessons: Little Dicky is a literal name (4:21), Tourism is still alive and well (0:11) and statistically speaking, this is the least likely way to acquire an STD in public. Trust me, I've seen 3 full episodes of House M.D.
So, who's really to blame here? The horse farm that secured their perimeter to keep her away from the livestock, or the guy with 4 Q's in his name that's keeping her on a 1-token drip for the past 4 hours?
