I’m riding the train home from work as a heat wave bares down on the city. I’m listening to The Feelies on my newly upgraded Spotify music service. The update affords me un-tethered access to my entire quirky collection of late eighties 1st wave bands, even in the bowels of the city’s stinky subway system. I’m completely bored and my eyes start to wander to the diverse humanity occupying the car. There’s all types on the train tonight, from a Jimi Hendrix clone dress as a riverboat gambler, practicing his riffs on an acoustic guitar, to an old Hasidic man who’s deep set eyes radiate so much intensity I feel he could light my hair up like the burning bush if I make direct eye contact. I quickly divert my gaze over to a freakish bleach-blond-muscle-clad girl who’s obviously competing in the body building tournament at the community college by my apartment. Her frog-like upper thighs look like they could have sent many a deficient oral practitioner to his grave. I can tell she likes me looking at her body and that in and of itself is enough to start reading the display ads in the car. Tonight the big advertiser is a new men’s cologne called Yankee Fragrance. What The f#$ck is that all about? What could Yankee Fragrance possibly have in it to attract the opposite sex? I start thinking about what ingredients go into something called Yankee Fragrance and the following list comes to mind:
1. A milliliter of Derek Jeter’s ball sweat
2. A pitch of dry mustard scraped off the concession area condiment table
3. One dissolved urinal cake
4. Three tablespoons of stale Bud Light
5. An air of entitlement
6. Vintage flatulence, newly released from years of fermentation inside a portable stadium seat cushion.
7. The essence of unwashed jock strap left to fester in a forgotten hamper after a late August double header
8. A sprinkle of decomposed mouth balls from Yogi Berra’s estate sale
You get the picture. I for one can’t wait to see the commercial.