Unaccustomed to begging, Dave pressed again as a scribe to get to the bottom of his misstep. "Where", Dave asked, "where does it say that among the contents is an intromissio retumescial inhibitor ?" The stultifying effect of that omission and therefor unmission pissed Dave off like more than anything since Ms. Lovelace was gobblin' nuts like a squirrel. The whole purpose of adult life is to perpetuate the walkin' on moonbeam moments and this shitty, lousy throw-away product which is supposed to boost your mojo puts in this filler that negates blood flow boost that's been at the heart of Rio on Demand. Pell mell, I tell you. Oh yeah? then why did they call them Pall Malls then? It doesn't matter because now that we've narrowed our research and got to the bottom of this perplex complex, we just eliminate the negative, flex up the positive and hold on for all your worthiness during the ride that makes freedom look like Fredo before he poops his pants. It all works out in the spin cycle so dwelling on how stupid it was to eat those crap-filled anti-boners under the guise of more boost, more eh-uh-eh-uh, is like as mindless as staring at a cashier's cleavage while she's handing you your receipt. Lesson learned, Sir Dave and next time, read before you eat and save the freakouts for earth-moving moments. Dave laughed, realizing whatever heights he hits he can still eff up a time-tested topaz without lifting the burnishing tool. Margaret, you'd never believe where I settled and staked - it's west of the sun and east of the moon.