PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: MEGAN FOX HAS TOE-THUMBS.

Or How I learned to beat a One-Note joke into the ground.

(Originally published May 5th, 2009)

A discovery has recently been made that could change the course of human history--and frequent masturbation--FOREVER. That's right Aficionados of blowing out the brains of the bald bull and corralling the tadpoles, (I myself actually majored in masturbation in 2000, graduating Magna Cum Often), Megan Fox, best known for her riveting, Academy-Award winning performance in the field of ubiquitously bending over in 2007's Transformers--and well, that's it-- has a deep dark secret; a secret so vile that it has actually forced me to reevaluate my lofty criterion as to whether I'd never be in the position ever in my life to have sex with a person like her. After all, I have standards. A pulse for one. And that's about it. That secret?-- TOE THUMBS.

Now, before you ask, Toe-thumbs are indeed a real-life medical calamity that affects 1/1 people with toes for thumbs. It's a Pandemic sweeping the country, but apparently the government would *rather* pester you with fake flu viruses allegedly spread by angry and disgruntled ethnic barnyard animals than address this true tragedy: RUINING AND SULLYING WHAT UP UNTIL THE DISCOVERY OF DISPROPORTIONED MUTANT THUMBS WERE NEARLY PERFECT UNATTAINABLE WOMEN. I for one am sick of it. And handsome.

Now, let me say this, it takes a lot for me to sour on a woman. A LOT. Restraining orders are one. (But not by choice!). Secret Penises and/or confusing or misinformed genitalia have been known to also somewhat put me off my game. Infecting me secretly yet purposely with the incurable immune deficiency disease known as AIDS? That might not earn you a call back. But TOE-THUMBS? Jesus Christ! What is she trying to do, make me sick?

Seriously, though. I'm not a shallow man. That would insinuate that there was ever any water in the proverbial pool to begin with. But still, a guy has to draw the line somewhere, AMIRITE?

I mean, Megan Fox had it all. She was hot. She was um, hot. And she was something else I'll fill in later when I finally think of it. But now, thanks to this discovery, my perfect vision of her has been ruined with the revelation that apparently sometime between 1986 and now, she climbed into Jeff Goldblum's Atom-transference pod from the Fly, and shit got mixed up bad. Feet became hands. Hands became feet. It was anarchy.

Still don't believe me? PSHA! PEEP THIS SHIT, YO.

The above image has not been altered in any way. Sadly. But, to be safe and preserve my obscenely reputable reputation of journalistic integrity--and redundancy-- I personally launched a full-scale investigation into this matter. I started with miniatures first, but I sat on them accidentally.

I was now on a mission. One that I undertook for my fellow man. I can't remember his name. He was nice, though. So, there I went, researching COUNTLESS online Megan Fox pictures for the world, scientific community and religious pundits everywhere, in a valiant attempt to solve the one lingering mystery that had plagued me: Just how many consecutive times can a person whose name rhymed with Sean Carless violate oneself to the same airbrushed Maxim magazine scans? It was a complex riddle to be sure, but the answer I ultimately came up with, after creating a series of complicated bar graphs, polls and even breaking it down on a cellular level via all my resources in molecular science, was-- A LOT.

But still. Facts were facts. She literally had a big toe for a thumb. I may have been able to forgive this travesty if it was a baby toe, but come on. That shit just ain't right. If I was willing to let that go, I'd maybe also be forced to open the flood-gates and accept other minor flaws in people despite ignoring the thousands I have, and, well, that'd just be absurd.

Anyway, as much as I didn't want to believe it, I just could not fight science. It's ground-game was just far too solid. This ruining of this beautiful woman-- via unsightly inverted appendages-- was the equivalent to me of shooting a small child in front of its mother. If that mother was a 32 year old man, and that child was Megan Fox, and shooting them signified toe-thumbs and the general ruination of any and all sexy possibilities.

Ultimately, I had to accept her fate. And my own. It was unavoidable. Like an impending 5 year-sentence for stalking. If I was ever going to have sex with Megan Fox via copious amounts of alcohol, sudden riches, or nuclear holocaust leaving us as humanity's last great hope, I would have to think of a tactful, gentlemanly way to ask that she first fasten an Elephant Man-like burlap sack around her hand whilst I made passionate love to her general vicinity while simultaneously trying not to laugh at her really deep tattoos. It's all I could do to cope.

And to think, I almost once placed a bid on an online auction allegedly selling the thong she wore beneath her painted-on jeans in Transformers. Luckily for me, my sanity, credit rating, immortal soul and everything else, I ultimately declined said purchase. Or my credit card declined me. Mostly because it wasn't mine. Besides, I once made a vow to myself, local authorities, the crown and a neighborhood watch-dog program that I would never again pay for something that I could just as easily discreetly steal whilst a woman slumbered, tenderly make love to, and maybe even wear around the living-room like a sexy lady. And I intended to honor that promise. I never go back on my promises to myself, after all. We had a falling out once, and I didn't talk to me for almost a whole year. I'm not risking it again. We've come too far.

I don't even remember what we're talking about anymore.

But hey, if there is a silver lining (pun intended) to this--and a point at all--this whole sordid mess does at least finally explain one thing: her long-time relationship with one Brian Austin Green, or BAG as he's known for short by, well, me, just because. I mean, fuck that guy, right? I mean, sure, he was delightful as David Silver on 90210, and he was known to churn out some PHAT beats, which I think is street slang for being gay, but what did HE ever do to earn a piece of ass, bar the Tony Robbins thumbs, like Megan Fox? I mean, if it was Joe E. Tata, sure, I'd buy it. That guy was the shit. In fact, I modeled my entire adult life after him. Hell, I even once picked up three women in one night wearing his Peach Pit button-up. And totally off the ground, too. I was that mighty. But David Silver? Come on. Is nothing Holy? Does nothing making sense? This article, especially?

The point is, with that sweet, sweet 90210 money dried up faster than the ovaries of Mrs. Walsh, there HAD to be a hook for a guy that talentless and washed up to get a girl like Megan Fox, right? I mean, who does this motherfucker think he is, Ian Ziering or something?

Thankfully, however, her recent Toe-Thumb emergence has vindicated us all from asking this question any longer. The mystery has indeed been solved. It is all clear now. God simply leveled the playing field. God has rewarded us, the little people, with the once-in-a-lifetime chance to score quality trim by way of rare freakish abnormalities and their subsequent low self-esteems and hopefully eventual full-blown depressions and plunge into alcoholism as a result. We finally have a shot! It's great.

So, yes, for those counting, Brian Austin Green is still impossibly worthless. Total fucking garbage. But with Megan Fox sporting a hand like a stalk of bananas, all of a sudden BAG was looking pretty fuckin' good. After all, David Silver would never judge her. I mean, how could he? He made out regularly with Tori Spelling, so after that chamber of fucking horrors, this Frankenstein thumb shit was old hat. Which he likely wore because he's all trendy and retro and shit. God, I hate him. Maybe because I once sported a 90210 haircut in 1995 and am still sore over it. Literally. The weight of it caused me to lose some 5 inches off my spinal column.

That said, as much as I hate to say it-- as I've already alienated my penis enough as it is-- this phenomenon has also opened up a whole flood-gate of other Hottie mutation possibilities. It explains SO MUCH. For so MANY years. Heather Locklear. Pamela Anderson before she was made of more molded plastic than my 1982 Prince Adam action figure; Denise Richards. It was a laundry list of suspects too long to remember, and not just because I'm too lazy to try. But mostly that.

And the worst part? It is likely still happening TODAY. It could be ANYONE. Clearly, there has to be a reason Hollywood sports the world's most impressive Douchebag : Hottie ratio. I mean, I'm a douchebag. What gives? There HAS to be more. So very much more.

I mean, *perhaps* the *real* reason we haven't seen say a Scarlett Johansson nude scene, is because she secretly has KUATO embedded into her impressive pectoral region? Perhaps? I mean, there HAS to be a logical reason as to why I haven't seen her naked yet. Besides the fact that all the back-lot security guards have my picture plastered all over the place, and discreetly smuggling a ladder, a full ninja suit/night vision goggle combination, and high-end recording equipment onto the sets of her films is harder than you could possibly imagine. And apparently illegal. Who knew.

So, yes. That's my grave life-altering discovery and subsequent report. I once claimed I would hit that ass like the Fist THUMB of an angry god. But NO MORE. That's right, Megan Fox, I HAVE MADE MY DECISION. I WILL NOT HAVE SEX WITH YOU. YOU'LL JUST HAVE TO DEAL WITH IT. Instead, I'll just sit in the corner of the room and masturbate in shame, crying, whilst you pleasure yourself with a thumb that in many ways trumps my own penis in every feasible way but attitude. I mean, sure I do that anyway, but now I have a justifiable excuse. I'll be back in two.

But hey, do not fret fans of unrealistic visions of nailing hot women the world over despite being disgusting, poor and generally unlikable on every recognizable level. We can still enjoy all the good non-freak show thumb memories. And Mammary's. I mean, we'll always have her acting. I mean, no one bends over, squints and generally adds nothing of value to society other than being hot better than her, right? We'll always have that. So long as Michael Bay keeps that banana thumb out of the tight shot.

Besides. It could be worse...

What makes me think that after shaking her hand, she'd suddenly have the urge to smoke a cigarette?

I'm Sean.

And yes, I animated a photoshop of a penis thumb.

(don't judge me.).