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Here’s the newest video from the Boom Tho Mixtape! It combines “Anything is Possible!” with “Internet Dominance!” Enjoy.

I dont like this one as much, but it’s still a TV ad featuring our team. Check it out...

I took this picture in Beijing w mr Chan. Talk about a baller, son! Mad Boom Tho.

Truer words have never been said by a more appropriate ex-sponsor. Yes, I took this pic in the DFW airport.

So, after posting the “Not and Retarded” post last week, I got emails from both of the women in the article.

Hunter, the blonde girl who I didn’t have much of a problem with at all, proved why. She wrote a very sincere apology and to be honest, she didn’t even need to, because she apologized that night. There’s no need to mention her further. She’s not that bad.

Annie, the other one, wasn’t so accepting of the incident. John, the other factor from the evening sent me a text message conversation that he had with her before I got any email. I was ROLLING when I read this. john’s a fool for this. John’s msg’s are in RED. Annie’s are black. This is how it went:

12:02 AM): Who is this?
(12:02 AM): Annie a****le
(12:03 AM): I am pissed at your black friend, you guys are a****les just wait. I will get back at you.
(12:04 AM): I didn't post it. Ur whack anyways. You never hit me back.
(12:06 AM): Gimme my shirt back and we'll talk. Otherwise ur whack in my book
(12:06 AM): Whatever bye. Just because I am busy on the road and I can't reply back I get this? You are all awful and I was right about u and your friends
(12:07 AM): F**k you John! Never contact me again!!!!
(12:08 AM): I'm not trying to ur whack.
(12:08 AM): Have fun on ur broke ass trip
(12:09 AM): Just go away. Do not contact me ever again. You all are dead to me. I liked you and fey but at this point go away!!!
(12:09 AM): Bye asshole. Keep living your closed minded miserable life.
(12:10 AM): No ones tryin to like you! We will succed. U have fun strugglin
(12:10 AM): Glad you fit in to the rest of middle America. It fits you
(12:11 AM): Ur lower america. Stop talking to me. Keep the shirt
(12:11 AM): Bye! Have fun being negative. People w negative and closed minded thoughts never succeed. Keep living "the dream" ps you're not black.
(12:11 AM): Bye.
(12:12 AM): F**k you. Stop texting me
(12:12 AM): Ur a waste of my minutes
(12:15 AM): Deleted.
(12:16 AM): F**k urself
(12:16 AM): stop!!!!!!!!!!
(12:28 AM): I'm not trying to talk to you. I wanted charity the whole time. Please don't text m.e. Ur deal is whack

The next day:


(9:17 AM): I'm going to apologize because I yelled at you before I even re
I'm going to apologize because I yelled at you before I even read the article. Its not your fault and I'm sorry for yelling at you. Your friend is still a very
(9:18 AM): Hateful person but he is allowed to blog whatever he wants but its a shame he is blogging about a story that is one sided and untrue. But in any case I'm sorry
(9:18 AM): And charity can give you back your shirt. You were a gentleman for letting me wear it when I was cold. So thanks, I didn't steal it on purpose.

So I read all of this before getting an email from her the next morning. I was laughing so hard I could hardly breathe. I love how she says “I’m pissed at your black friend.” Mike is also black and besides that John has a ton of black friends. Whatever. It must have been minutes after her last text to John. I’ll just lay out her email, my response (in blue), and her final email:

“Hey, just wanted to know I read your email. I'm not mad, but are allowed to have your own point of views.

Like I said I didn't know those guys and I was not hanging out with them. I was hanging out with John. I still am clueless to know who those guys are.

The thing is, I'm a little hurt that you would say my name and tell people to say mean things to me. I'm not vindictive so I'm not going to retaliate.

And honestly you don't know me and its a shame you have to s**t talk about people before you even know them.

John and I were talking to each other at that point. He gave me his shirt to wear because he was a gentleman. Whatever he said to you about the case is because he was trying to be a man in front of you. 

In any case, I enjoyed your blog, I think you are a funny person and I have even supported you and had links to your funny videos on my facebook.

I think its sad that you know none of this and yet you can try to be so hurtful. I was only combative that night because you were combative as well. I know the owner of the club and he was there and he even knows what happened.

With this being said. I call a truce. Let me know if you can be a man and accept that. If not then I'm sorry you feel so much hate in your heart that you had to belittle someone you don't even know.”

Here are some things you must understand:

First, you're right, I don't know you, but it was based on first impressions and John (maybe to not seem so ho-before-bro-ish) was legit mad about his shirt. I can only paint a certain picture if I am only given a few paints. 

Secondly, I actually don't have negative emotion towards you. It's not really me to remain vindictive. That being said, that event is extremely funny in retrospect. Does the story vilify you? Yes. Do I say anything that's untrue? No. I tell the story exactly how it happened from our side. If you have a big problem with that, it's only because you truly didn't understand how it looked to us. Now you have a better understanding of how you placed yourself in our minds -- the spark that set the night on fire. 

Thirdly, I know you're not apologetic about what happened that night, and neither am I. It is what it is -- a funny story with a funny antagonist and a lame result. I didn't even think about you, or that night, until I was beginning to write about my L.A. experience, of which you were the first of many. I am willing to call a "truce," but understand that implies that there is some sort of battle and I'm not battling anyone. I'm just, quite unapologetically, recounting a night exactly how it happened, and expecting to never hear from you again, told people (like I always do) to come at you. It worked, now here you are. 

Anyways, when you sent me this email I was more ready to be kind and rewind, so to speak, but then John sent me a text conversation that claimed you were going to come at me. That's all good and fine, if you want, I guess. Do what you like. I will publicly accept your truce on my site, so people know to stop coming at you, but I will show them how the truce came to pass: you asked, I read a text convo between you and John, then accepted, still. Why? Because it's still all incredibly funny and good fodder. Hopefully you can see it the same way, because I have driven people to your site, and our little "truce" will only drive you MORE traffic. Take that as a sign of my lightheartedness about the situation.

Rod Benson

... And BOOM goes the dynamite!

Ok I'm not mad as I said about any of that. What I'm mad is that you try to get your friends to say shit to me which in my own opinion is childish. Also when I sent those texts to John I hadn't even read the article and I was drunk. So all I heard is really bad stuff so I went off on John. Also, John is trying to act hard in front of you. He tries to act mad about his shirt because he knows you have ill feelings toward me. I have told many times I would give it back to him and he has never followed through so I guess he's not that mad about the shirt. Why would I want the shirt? Its twenty times too big for me? Also this is after many poems John sent to me after that night and him repeatedly begging to take me out and saying that you guys are nothing. I have zero respect for someone that can throw their friends under the bus to get a girl then go talk s**t about the girl to his friends that he just said awful things about.

Anyway. This is between you and I. I don't care about the article that's up on your site. Just please take down the part about me being on facebook and to come at me. And until you have a better understanding of someone, who they are, and what they aim to be... I would try to be a little less judgemental. Because in all reality, I'm not the girl you painted me out to be.

Thanks for writing me back. No hard feelings.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now it all comes out in the wash. John was saving. Hard. I told him I resuscitate parties, but I don’t save ho’s. True story. Maybe she was so fired up because she had a thing with John or whatever, but still, this whole event makes her look sillier than anyone.

Still, I made a promise and I am keeping it. This is the official truce. If you see her on the streets, on Facebook, MySpace, or whatever, DO NOT ANTAGONIZE HER. She made her best apology attempt and, I guess, it’s in the past and I’m not trippin. Once again, however, remember that this could happen to you if you choose to party in LALA Land. Keep a watchful eye, my friends, and stay mad boom tho!

First of all, here’s the newest video, featuring Mike Fey (UCLA 06) and John “Legend” Fieweger:
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Now, you will also need to check out the entire Mixtape and tell me what you think, because I’ll be making videos for these songs and skits all season, so get ready. It’s gonna be fun to just film all year for songs I’ve already done. So, no B.S., here’s 13 songs, skits, and otherwise of straight up BoomThoNess. Peep the cover art too.. Its itunes ready without the 99cents:

Boom Tho: The Mixtape!

My first weekend in Hollywood, I was with Mike and John (in case you havent guessed by now, they are definitely my L.A. crew) and we were kickin it at Rand’s house in downtown. I literally went there straight off the plane, met Rand and John, and then went out with them in the wood.

Fey mentioned that we were gonna go to some spot I had never heard of, but I was cool with it because I understand that he always knows what’s up down there. John seemed pretty hyped about it and Rand was more or less along for the ride like me.

Fey and John mentioned that some girls they knew would be filming for their reality show or something like that while we were there, so I was kind of weary about partying on TV, but then I realized that any Boom Tho video pretty much has the same things. These girls had their own blog or something called hot and retarded I warmed up to the idea by the time we arrive.

It was a little spot, kind of tucked away close to an alley way right off the Highland exit of 101 (that only means something to the Hollywood people, I guess). It was actually suspiciously small. When we walked in, it seemed too small to house that many folks, but I’ve been to places like Hyde and that’s pretty small too, but never lacking in Boom-Tho-Ness. We get settled at the far end of the place and quickly decide (since the place is still empty) that we want to get bottle service.

Two bottles, 4 dudes, it seemed all good. We got our party started on our end of this small place. After a few minutes, a couple of girls walk in with bright camera lights following them. Since there were only ten people there, this event caused an obvious scene. John walked over to them to talk about who-knows-what and soon he was back with us, saying that we should head over to them because they needed it to look like the party was crackin for TV purposes.

We all headed over to the other side of the room where there were two dudes none of us knew, and three girls that Mike and John knew. I sat there and played the part. Soon, though, I got over it and went back to my table, but not before snapping this picture with the two ‘TV’ girls:



I know what you’re thinking: damn that Rod Benson is hella Boom Tho! I know. I can’t argue, but this isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Soon after I returned to the table, Mike, John, Rand, and the girls came over. Before I knew it, our two bottles were gone. Nothing wrong with that. The night was progressing just like many other before. Those dudes we didn’t know came over to our table before it was all said and done and I kept to myself mostly, besides my usual “Dance Off” quality moves.

All of a sudden it was closing time. We were the first to arrive and the last to leave, it seemed. Now we were signing off on our check and about to be on our way, but there was a problem.

Our bill had 3 bottles charged to it when we had only consumed two. It was quickly worked out that those two guys we didn’t know had charged one to our table, promised to pay for it, and left. Very classy.

Well the extra 500 had to come from someone. We all turned at looked at these two girls, not because they owed us 500, but because they knew and had invited these dudes. We needed some answers. Problem was, they failed to provide any... At all.

Before we knew it, security was hounding us for the money and we were in the kitchen. All of us were there, including team Hot and Retarded. They said that the money wasn’t their responsibility because they didn’t know the guys. Mike, who’s card was down, was starting to get angry. I told him that I would be the jerk tonight.

I came at the girls hard. I told them that we didn’t know them either (even though they DEFINITELY knew these guys) and that since we all partied together that we should all chip in equally. Security asked that I leave them alone. I asked why. Just because they were female didn’t mean that they weren’t involved and that their money isn’t green.

One of the girls, sensing that I was not about to let this go, started to take a crying tone. She asked that we just leave them alone because they had no money, but that she could give us the guys phone number. That was a good start. The other girl, the one in the right of the pic above, was way more combative. She kept arguing that they didn’t owe anything. That’s when I let her have it.

I told her that no amount of breast implants work double time as brain implants and that she just looked stupid. I then told her that she would pay for this somehow, eventually.

While I was in the middle of berating her, she took off. I had to help Mike work out the bill and then we were off, looking for her. Couldn’t find her anywhere. Unfortunately, we couldn’t find John either.

Come to find out that John is at Mels with her! I guess he was talking to her the whole time. WTF?

We smash over to Mels and I run in. I can’t find either of them. I look in both bathrooms, furious. Still nothing. All of a sudden John’s walkin back towards the car. I’m kinda mad at him but I’m looking for this Spring Break breezy. I don’t call her spring break cuz she’s wild, but because there’s no class.

I can’t find her anywhere. We jump in the car and begin to drive away. I then see her walking out, with 4 new dudes, wearing Johns brand new $150 shirt over her dress. It’s too late to do anything.

I guess I should thank her because she got John, who needed to be got for his actions, and she quickly introduced me to Hollywood’s legal prostitution. Drinks and partying will be on you, no matter what. As long as you’re “Hot and Retarded,” the sky’s the limit in the city of angels. But, I will get the last laugh. Well, maybe you’ll help me. Visit their site, and tell Annie Wonderlich (she’s on FB, too) that she can “Wonderlich my balls.” Thanks Hansel for that.

Oh and I guess they should be called “Broke and Retarded” because they have a DONATIONS page on their blog. How far do they really think they can get, being a group of 7’s? Not even dimes! Coddamn!

This isn’t a very long story at all, it’s just an event that most men would find absolutely repulsive, so I must make you share my pain.

I was at the Mondrain Hotel in Hollywood (I spent most of the last month there), gettin in some pool time on a Saturday afternoon. It was me, Mike Fey, John (the Resuscitation team) and three girls who Mike had invited to come kick it at the pool. What you need to know about expensive Hollywood hotels is that their pools take on a Vegas vibe on the weekends and they turn into party pools. Now that that’s understood, we can move on.

So, like I said, short and sweet. I was in the water with John, and the girls were sitting up on the edge of the pool. All of a sudden the girls look off into the distance and start laughing. They are murmuring something to each other that I can’t really make out, so I ask them what they’re talkin about.

They say that I wouldn’t understand. My narcissistic side disagrees. There’s nothing funny that I couldn’t understand. I keep probing them. FInally they tell me to look as they point towards towards the other side of the pool. My view is something like this:



This view is actually not as good as mine. What you’re seeing here is a screen cap of a video that John tried to make but he got too excited, thinking that he had the shot, when he didn’t. He’s trying to capture what I eventually saw: this girl has a TAMPON string hanging down like 6 inches.

She dances around for about 5 minutes while the girls try to figure out who should tell her. I sit there, grossed out, awaiting some sort of action. Finally, one of the girls walks over and whispers something to her. She looks to her friend, and asks her for help, tucking it away as discretely as possible. But this string was sponsored by Brett Favre, because it was retired three times, and kept coming back. Her friend had to help her tuck that thing away again and again before she finally made a trip to the bathroom.

I think the girls we were with were right. I had no clue how to handle the situation except to nearly throw up into the pool, which still wouldn’t be as gross as being drawn to a dangling string of an ugly, drunken girl. Oh man that was almost as rough as the time a volleyball coach for a team we were playing had a big red stain on the crotch of her white pants. Some things you gotta notice all by yourself.

Every year, former Cal Wide Receiver Chase Lyman holds a series of competitions at his house on one day in the last weekend in June. These competitions range from Quarterback Challenge to Darts to Bocce Ball to Home Run Derby. These events are called the “Lyma Bean Olympics.”

This past OLYMPICS, I went down there to compete against Prelle, Richard Midgley, Mike McGrath, Tosh Lupoi, Conor Famulenor, and others. I did pretty poorly, but this story isn’t about me, it’s about Prelle and Mike.

I guess Mike has always performed pretty poorly at these events and Prelle has always done pretty well. So to spice things up a little bit they made a bet. They made it a little uneven given Mike’s performances in the past, but still, the difference was miniscule. The bet was that if Mike had a higher score at the end of the competitions, he would get to Pee on Prelle’s Chest. If Prelle won, he would get to Pee on Mike’s back. So it was written, so it shall be done.



We used aliases for everyone, but since Mike is balding, he’s on the board as “Rogaine.” Prelle is “The Nose.” As you can see, going into the final event they were all tied up. All that was left to establish a champion was pool. They would play each other to see who would get the golden shower.



Right before the final match

The pool game came down to the last couple of shots. What you’re about to see is video of those last few shots and what ensued. Be advised that there is no actual pee in this video, but that there is quite a bit of profanity because I didnt want to spend hours editing every cuss word they throw out.

So I was at my girlfriends apartment in San Francisco one afternoon and she had to leave the house to go to work or something. The problem with this was that her roommate absolutely despises my presence, and hates when I’m around without her. She once since my girl a text message reading: “What about ‘I don’t want Rod here when you’re not here’ do you not understand?” -- cold-blooded to say the least.

Anyways, I decided to stay and take a nap despite the fact that her roommate was home. My girl warned me to stay in the room with the door closed until I left and to not make much noise so that I wouldn’t get her in trouble. I agreed and fell asleep.

I woke up a few hours later and could hear her roommate rumbling the next room. Damn. I would have to put my headphones on and watch a movie on my computer so as to not make a peep. I laid there for quite some time and her roommate kept rumbling in her own room now, with the door open so that if I left the room I was in, I would be seen for sure. Damn.

After another hour or so of hiding in the bedroom, the urge to drain the main vein hit me like a ton of bricks. What was I to do? I couldn’t leave the room, not yet at least. I didn’t have many options. It’s not like I could piss out the window from the fourth floor of a San Francisco building onto a busy street. As time wore on, I tried to hold it, but it became unbearable.

I started to panic. This was gonna be all bad unless I found a solution soon. I have always believed that being able to hold it is mental, meaning you can hold it all day long, but as soon as you get near a toilet, it becomes impossible and you start jumping around like the counter finally hit zero. With that in mind you should always be able to remain composed as long as you keep the mental focus. My mental focus is very strong, but I feel like the fact that the bathroom was seven feet away eroded my mental ability to withstand the pressure. It seemed too close to hold out. I was torturing myself.

Finally, when my bladder countdown turned from minutes to seconds, I made a play. I ran over to what used to be a glass of water and was now empty, stood over it, unzipped, and did my deal. It felt great, truly great.

As soon as I was done, a full glass nearly to the brim, by the way, I said to myself: “Don’t forget to dispose of this glass before you leave.” Can’t just leave piss lying around these days, you know?

Later that day I was walking with my boy Prelle. We had just gotten some Jamba Juice in the marina and were headed to grab some real food somewhere in the area. My phone buzzed. It was a BBM from my girlfriend.

“Is that Urine in a glass on my desk?”

I froze. I yelled. I laughed. I worried, Prelle looked at me like I had gone crazy. He asked me what I was reacting to. I first set up the backstory, then I showed him the BBM.

“Wait, wait, wait. This is the greatest question ever. It has like three parts, each worse than the part before. Is that Urine? In a glass? On my desk?” He exclaimed.

He then spent the rest of the day repeating that same statement. As for my girl, she didn’t even get mad at me. In fact, she said that she at first thought it was apple juice and leaned in for a sniff, getting a little of Benson’s Own on her nose. Even I was grossed out by that. It just made her angry at her roommate, who was such a tyrant that I didn’t feel comfortable walking the seven feet to the real bathroom.

I guess I’ve learned my lesson. If I’m gonna piss in a glass, I need to leave a note saying that it isn’t Martinelli’s, it’s Rod’s.

As it so happens, “Jimmy” wasn’t the only one to try for the 3 of a kind. A few weeks later, “Randy” had his own encounter. Once again, Randy is not his real name, it’s been changed to protect the guilty, as have all the names in the following story.

So one day Randy was telling me about how he doesn’t like to talk about potential good things in his life because he always jinxes them. It was an odd conversation to have with him. It seemed rather pointless.

I asked him why this was at all relevant. He explained that he would tell me because there were a couple of other people who knew what the deal was already.

Randy showed me a BBM conversation that he had had with a girl he has been talking to. She had asked him something about what he would want to do for fun. I can’t remember the exact words, but somehow a Manage came up. Expecting to read that she denied the idea quickly, she actually embraced it.

I looked up at Randy with a grin. It would appear that the improbably was now possible for him and I got excited as if it were me. I would now do anything in my power to coddle such a situation.

The situation developed over the next few days. The girl, we’ll call her “Stacy”, recruited a friend to participate. We’ll call the friend “Monica.” So Stacy found Monica and told her about the deal. Monica agreed and it looked like ol’ Randy was good to go. He consulted me on the situation.

He didn’t know if he should get a hotel room or whatever. I told him that of course he should. It would only add to the comfort level. Meanwhile, he was getting dirty texts from the girls about what they were going to do to him. He was riding high on a wave of emotion.

Finally the day came. He got a hotel room right across from the club that we were going to go to that night. The situation was primed and ready.

The girls met up with him after dinner so that they could pre-party at the hotel. Now they were all drinking in the hotel and Randy was sending me the updates via BBM. It all seemed like it was good to go. He said that he was taking very awesome pictures of Stacy and Monica making out. He said that clothing may or may not have been a factor during the pictures. It sounded pretty damn official.

Me, my girl, and the rest of the crew, met up with Randy and his women at the club and the three of them were dancing with each other. I pulled Randy aside and asked him what the progress was. He told me that Stacy was beginning to have reservations, but that Monica was all for it. I told him to get more liquor and do his deal.

See, our whole crew knew the story at this point and we were all pulling for him. We watched his every move. We watched as he gave both girls a fair amount of attention. We watched him do the normally very innocent “dance in-between two women” move, that now meant so much more. He was actually attempting to keep two separate women stimulated for hours. It was quite entertaining. I left him at about 1am. Randy was now on his own to handle the situation.

The next day I called Randy to see if it all went down. He told me that when he got back to the room, Monica was ready to go. The problem was that Stacy, the one who initiated the whole thing, now had cold feet about her friend possibly gettin down with Randy and put the brakes on the whole thing. Monica, tired of waiting, left the hotel room to go meet up with her boyfriend for some sweet lovin, while Randy and Stacy passed out.

He was so close, but yet so far away. Now my friends are 0-2 in the summer of ’09. There’s still plenty of time to get it done, though.

All of the parties in the following stories chose to remain anonymous, of course, so I’ve changed the names to protect the guilty.

We were in Vegas staying at the Venetian about a month ago. After going out the night before, I was the first one up in the morning the next day. It was about 11am and I knew that it would take a while to rally the troops. So I got fully dressed in my pool garb, grabbed my Ipod Dock (Bose. Very loud.) and went room to room, blasting Techno until everyone was up and ready.

We made it down to the pool at about 1, finally, and started gettin it crackin. We didn’t head into TAO Beach right away. We like to get our swerve on at the regular pool first, using the Ipod speakers to have our own party.

Once we were done doin our thing, we went into TAO Beach to take it to the next level. I’m not sure if you’ve ever been to TAO Beach, but I can tell you it’s small, loud, and ridiculous. When we entered, I immediately lost one of my boys. You would think it would be tough to lose somebody at a pool the size of a Texaco, but I couldn’t find him.

The thing about this boy of mine, I’ll call him “Jimmy,” is that he almost exclusively dates Asian women. It’s just his thing. We all know this and that’s why he and I have never clashed on the female front. We have very different tastes.

Anyways, after about an hours, Jimmy comes splashing into the pool with two women who fit his target demographic. He’s clearly all over one as he has her up against the wall of the pool, grinding to the sweet tunes pumping over all the patrons that afternoon.

I was happy for Jimmy, because he is just now gettin his college mojo back that he let slip away over the last year. So when I saw him with his tongue now down the girl’s throat. It was damn near magical. Many photos were taken that afternoon and I would like to say that half of them were borderline Cinemax: After Dark.

After the party was over, I headed back to my room with my roommate “Chris.” I was hella tired from a whole day of partying and needed a nap. Chris left the room and I got in bed. It was then that I started getting BBM’s from Jimmy.

“Man why is everybody actin gay?”

“#$*% these chicks aint dimes, but come on punanny punanny.”

I interrupted him.

“What are you talkin bout Jim? I have no clue,” I asked.

“It’s official, I’m off ‘Randy,’ and ‘Gary.’ All I need is a F#$%@$ wingman and they’re actin like they don’t like punanny,” he said.

Right then, Chris walked into the room laughing. I asked him if he was laughing at Jimmy’s situation and he said that he was. See, I know the Chris would handle business in that situation so I was actually more wondering why he didn’t lock and load into WIngman mode.

“Hold up Chris,” I interrupted his laughter, “WTF is goin on over in Jimmy’s room?”

Chris is a very technical talker. He’s probably as Spock-like as a man can be.

“Basically the situation is this: Jimmy brought the woman and her friend from TAO Beach back to his hotel room. They are currently in his bed, completely inebriated. Jimmy is trying to have sex with his girl, but her friend is hating. Jimmy is trying to put the other girl onto Randy or Gary, both of whom don’t want her.”

Chris’ voice was like that of a narrator.

“So,” I started, “you didn’t want to get on drunk girl #2?”

“Well,” he answered, “I tried to help Jimmy out, but they only wanted black guys.”

Chris is Jewish. He was the only non-black guy on our trip.

“Damn son. Cold blooded. Why doesn’t Jimmy go for the Manage? If they are that drunk... I mean it IS Vegas,” I asked.

From what I was told later on, the girls made many attempts to leave, but Jimmy did his best to keep them there. They had a long meeting in the bathroom of his room and he took the opportunity to call me and voice his concern.

He told me that they weren’t down for the manage. He then spent 5 minutes saying how much he hated all his boys for not taking the other girl, leaving him punanny-less.

If there was one moral to this otherwise moral-less story it’s this: Find a girl who likes Jewish guys. The end.