THE Asylum

TROJAN CONDOM COMPANY INC.
6969 SLIPPERY ROOT DRIVE
DROPTROUSER, NC 22269

Dear Mr. Over-Sixty-User;
We regret to inform you that we have rejected your application to model
and represent our product, Trojan Condoms.
Although your general physical appearance is not displeasing, our Board of Directors feels that your wearing of our product in the advertisement does not portray a positive, romantic image of our product. A loose, baggy and wrinkled condom is not considered romantic.
We did admire your efforts to firm up by using poly-grip, but even then it slipped off before we could get the photographs taken. We would like to note, however, that yours is the first we’ve seen that looked like a bicycle grip.
We appreciate your interest and thank you for your time. We will retain your application for future consideration, if by chance we decide there is a market for micro-mini condoms.
We send greetings to your wife and/or girlfriend and our deepest sympathy.
YOURS VERY TRULY,
Burly Dick

President
TROJAN CONDOM COMPANY INC.
PS Remember our slogans: cover your stump before you hump -

don’t be silly, protect your Willie -

never deck her with an unwrapped pecker -
before you attack her, wrap your wacker -

if you’re not going to sack it, go home and whack it.

An Irish daughter had not been home for over 5 years. Upon her return, her Father cussed her.

“Where have ye been all this time? Why did ye not write to us, not even a line?

Why didn’t ye call? Can ye not understand what ye put yer old Mother thru?”

The girl, crying, replied, “Sniff, sniff….Dad. …I became a prostitute…” “Ye what!!? Out of here, ye shameless harlot! Sinner! You’re a disgrace to this Catholic family.” “OK, Dad– as ye wish. I just came back to give mum this luxurious fur coat, title deed to a ten bedroom mansion plus a $1 million savings certificate. For me little brother, this gold Rolex. And for ye Daddy, the sparkling new Mercedes limited edition convertible that’s parked outside plus a membership to the country club……. (takes a breath)…. and an invitation for ye all to spend New Years Eve on board my new yacht in the Riviera and… …”

“Now what was it ye said ye had become?” says Dad.
Girl, crying again, “Sniff, sniff….a prostitute Daddy! Sniff, sniff.”

“Oh! Be Jesus! Ye scared me half to death, girl

I thought ye said a Protestant.

Come here and give yer old Dad a hug.”

I’m fucking hungry, dude. You’d better feed me, before I feed myself