Dear Viagra,

How's it hanging? Little joke there. Well, not 'little'. But that's why I'm writing you today, the word 'little'. It's misleading. A little something can be a big deal.

Since I became sexually active ( read: when the boners I popped were expected and not a surprise that arose while watching Josie and the Pussycats at age six ), around thirteen, I became familiar with the term 'grower, not a shower'. This phrase was first uttered to me by Shay Chapdelain, my seventh grade sweetheart, and she meant that when I was completely excited, my mule was an impressive sillhouette of a chinese donut ( admittedly, most guys have sillouette envy of Alfred Hitchcock... which I guess explains his last name ), but when my soldier was at ease, it looked like an arrowhead eraser on a coin purse.

This is misleading. Normality is false advertising. When I'm randy, it's a warm delicious organ that measures from your wrist to the end of your middle finger, but when I'm anything else, it's a baby mushroom in a turtle neck. I'm not a Johnny Hotwad, but I'm also not a fucking loosey goosey boyscout tying my flacid gland into knots for merit badges either. If I was hung like a baby, I'd cut my losses, buy a Porsche and call it a day, but I have a handsome hog, and I'd like to get positive feedback without having to drill someone's pelvis to the bed with it.

That's where you guys come in. I propose a new type of Viagra that keeps you sailing at half mast. It'd be like a store front in those old west movies: for appearances only. Why do you have to make a product that gets me harder than telling a blind kid that his parents were murdered and that his puppy was used as the weapon ( in that situation, you always want to tell the blind kid, 'thank God you didn't have to see it' just before describing it thoroughly )?

Plus, I don't know about you, but I'm modern in every way. I don't wait for anything anymore. I don't wait in line, I don't wait for information, I don't wait for tickets, I don't wait to talk, I don't wait to listen, I don't wait to ask her out, I don't wait to buy the drinks, I don't wait to call us a cab, I don't wait to make out in the back of the cab while finger-banging her like we're in a stretch limo on prom night and I damn sure ain't waiting to mount a frontal assault on her lady parts when we get back to the hotel, so with that in mind I ask this. Why wait? If I'm halfway there before sex is even an option, imagine how quickly we can make rhythms before our shoes are even off! We can be bangin' away on all eight cylinders before we're even in a bedroom. Senior citizens aren't the only ones who can benefit from your services. Just because I don't need a walker to get from the bathroom to the bed doesn't mean I couldn't use a wheelchair to reserve my energy for the big race.

The banks of the world own the corporations and the corporations own the government and the government owns all of us. Since we're all slaves to the products you and your kind shove in our faces to make us forget the fact that our freedoms are being taken away from us one by one day after day in the interest of fighting wars that will never be resolved, I think the least you can do is get the dick pills right. If we're gonna be fucked by everyone in the world except the ones we want, the least you can do is give us the drugs to make our hard parts glisten so that we can then blame our sexual sobriety on everyone else. It's the American way!

Just a thought. And just as a side note, thank you for referring to the penis in your commercials as 'that certain area'. It's so nice to know that a company that makes money off the backs of male insecurity and superficiality coupled with a growing ( pun intended ) market for hyper-real sexual congress at least maintains a shred of dignity. Sadly, that shred can't be made bigger with pills.

Good day, sir. Yours fictionally,

- An Anonymous Customer named Philip Larson

PS: I said good day, sir! Sorry, all this willy talk made me wonky. I wanna Willy Wonka.

PPS: Could you also make some Shut The Fuck Up Cunt pills for my wife? They'd be for... well, you can guess.