Fuck me if im wrong, but… the Trojan magnum is the golden ticket of our generation
In Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, practically the entire world is obsessed with the idea of obtaining a golden ticket — and a pass into the most exciting and eccentric confection-creating castle. Anything that shimmers in the distance offers each ticket-hunter a glimmer of hope that they could, indeed, be one of the lucky ones to run wild like a kid in a candy shop.
Sadly, this is a fictional tale, and our simple lives are lived without the exhilaration of one day stumbling upon a golden ticket and therefore being invited into the land of the unknown. That is, until the day comes that a male or female sees a man tearing open a Trojan Magnum and feels the same excitement that swelled inside Charlie Bucket when he found that auriferous piece of paper which changed his destiny forevermore. (Big words, which, in our sense of the term “golden ticket,” basically translate to: a big dick cometh.)
They say it’s not the size of the boat but the motion of the ocean. And, in my personal experience I’ve found that sometimes the waves alone can do the trick. However, I’ve never heard of a man or woman choosing to ride the waves on a dingy instead of an ocean cruiser. And while a Magnum-requiring man-piece is by no means an obligation, it sure is a nice surprise — like running into an old friend who you haven’t seen for a while, or getting exactly what you wished for on your birthday.
After a woman or man eyes a golden ticket (or several, if he or she is lucky), the ticket-holder is taken on a voyage of extraordinary proportions. An epic journey, if you will, that results in one being pounded into the wall with such fervor that the man wielding this sword will have to grab his mate by the shoulders and bust he or she back out from the partition —like twisting an ice tray and popping the ice cubes within from their previous position.
After this affair has occurred, one’s bedroom floor may be littered with evidence of the exploit. It’s never fun to bend over to pick up and dispose of packaging aplenty — much like a criminal in an orange jumpsuit who has been fined with roadside cleanup, only without that nifty trash-picker-upper. However, finding Trojan Magnum wrappers on your floor the next morning is kind of like winning an Oscar for best performance. I’d like to thank the academy…
One is almost tempted to put this award on his or her mantle, or at the office for peers to examine and of which to be envious. Picture it: On your desk is a framed photo of you grinning wildly with one thumb up, and the other hand brandishing a shiny, golden, torn piece of plastic. This picture would represent your proudest moment… maybe you’d even send a copy of the photo to your mother for her to paste within your baby book. Baby’s First Monster Dong.
The photo would then be showed to all your family members and, later in life; upon victoriously winning the presidency, perhaps, it would be leaked into the media for the entire world to enjoy. Sigh. One can dream, can’t she? So, in summation, while a chance at touring the chocolate factory is a fantasy beyond reality, one can still hope, wish, and prey to stumble upon a golden ticket and go on an adventure of his or her own.