Testostergone

There they are.

Middle-aged men lined up in a field as far as the eye can see. (*)

All are now smiling because they can, whereas before they couldn’t.

A little pill made a big difference.

And it wouldn’t matter which of the three company’s product it was.

Not really, unless you selected the one that got you especially focused for up to 4 hours; in that case you did seek immediate medical attention, right?

Just how you did that in your condition was something to behold.

When the EMT arrived - it was a male wasn’t it? - what did he write as the reason for the 911 call?

Lust?

There is another commercial where partaking of the medicament inspired a man and a woman to lounge side-by-side in old boarding-house, porcelain bathtubs, gazing out into an azure sea or across a field of corn.

I imagine what happens when the viewer tries its message. Is there any water in the tubs? Eventually you both have to stand up. Can you imagine facing a good stiff ocean or plains breeze?

Brrrrr!

Ah, sweet romance.

Once you put aside the anacomical aspects, these advertisements would have you believe that there isn’t a man over fifty who doesn’t need assistance.

The age cutoff (oooh, bad choice of word) might even be dropping down into the forties: Have you seen the guy who close-up smirks through his entire pitch even when he is giving the contra-indications? How long did it take them to find that sadist?

That age floor means, however, that there are tens of millions of men in the U.S. alone who represent a potential market for related services.

So I start thinking about how to turn the situation into a business.

I would begin by contracting with sympathetic farmers who can promise to have verdant corn fields, and who don’t mind gouging out patches for therapeutical reasons to help their fellow man. This has to be done very discreetly, of course; you never know who might be slinking through the stalks with a digital camera.

But fields of green wouldn’t have to be restricted to the large, corn-growing states like Iowa or Indiana. You could start an inner-city program to use vacant lots. Wow, imagine how this would bring out the Save-Our-Planet crowd. It would be environmentally friendly!

You could also tie the farmer or landowner to an exclusive national franchise for tub rentals: It would be called HubbaHubbaTubba.

An entire industry would be spawned.

The timing couldn’t be better with the economy starting to limp into recession, and in a national election year - I did spell that right didn't I? - what better way to stimulate our economy?

The eventual IPO would stiffen Wall Street’s resolve to help pump up the little guys.

And that certainly would be a good thing all around.

[EdNote1: A BIG THANK YOU for the tubs image goes to Lisa Edwards our top-notch image creator!]

[*EdNote2: Did you ever wonder why the expression isn’t “as far as the eyes can see”? It’s rare for a man to suffer the misfortune of having only one good one. Maybe it harks back to the swashbuckling buccaneer days when a ship’s captain yelled it in the singular because his other eye had been gouged by a musket ball in a ferocious battle, or a hot poker fighting over a wench, forcing him to wear that black patch.]

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