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This is an interest post on craigslist

Craig's List Special
Messages posted on Craigslist.org in various cities:

PHONE POLE
They called me "Phone Pole" at Yale

For those of you too dumb to get into an Ivy League college, and thus get the clever allusion, they called me Phone Pole because my penis was widely known to be huge, nearly as big as a telephone pole, but not quite so splintery.

A lot has changed in my life since those halcyon days in New Haven. Back then I could cram a whole pie down my throat at Naples, chase it with two pitchers of beer and still have enough vigor to nail two Albertus Magnus girls and a roommate's kid sister from Hampshire before bed. Now I work too much, cocaine has sapped some of my virility, and my life is generally without purpose. But I still have a gargantuan cock, and my stamina, though no longer superhuman, still rivals that of most porn stars.

Here's what I need: A gorgeous young girl with supple hips, a lush mouth, and mysteriously low self-esteem. You look great wearing rags, yet you worry constantly about your appearance. Your ass is a finely sculpted work of art, but in your mind it's grotesquely massive. For the past several months you've been telling yourself, "everything would be better for me if I could just find a Yale man." If you've gotten so desperate that you're considering dating that Harvard dweeb your cousin knows, then we're a match.

Here's what you get: Me. In all my glory. I am six feet two inches tall. I graduated from Yale. If I chose to marry you (which I won't) the Times would carry the announcement. I make ungodly sums of money. You will get to spend a smallish (but not insignificant portion) of that money, at your leisure. All you have to do for it is submit to my every carnal whim, on my schedule. This means, when I say, "I want a blow job" I'm really saying, "I WANT A BLOW JOB NOW!" I am far too refined to phrase things that way in conversation, but I do feel the need to clarify the issue from the outset.

Send me your picture and tell me why you deserve me. Perhaps we'll chat.

RE: J. LO AND BEN AFFLECK
Date: 2003-08-12, 2:37AM

This used to be a beautiful world.

Jennifer, I remember when I wasn't subjected to looking at your face 8 hours of my 12 hour awake life. Ah yes, In Living Color. That's when we first met. There you were for a good 1.5 minute dancing away among many, somewhat camouflaging yourself among the Fly Girls. Then you became aware of me. You started to appear on the screen when I was sitting in the movie theater. It was the beginning of a beautiful relationship. A year later, Selena came out. You spent more time with me but we were still cool. La Familia, The Cell . . . wow, our relationship just moved forward with a vengeance! Angel Eyes, Out of Sight, Maid in Manhattan...all right, getting a little tired of seeing your face. I started desiring my space and no matter how politely I asked for it, you just didn't listen. A nightly appearance on Extra and Access Hollywood spelled the demise of our once-sweet courtship.

You couldn't handle the breakup well and decided to immerse yourself in highly publicized relationships, forcing me to spend night after night changing the channel in a vain effort to avoid seeing your face. Admittedly, when you and Puffy were arrested in New York, I was happy. But no...you came out of it. Okay, I decided that I was no longer going to be bitter about it and move on. You still wanted to be a part of my life.

Then you had to do it again. You got with Ben Affleck. Oh yeah, you sought your vengeance on me. I see you everywhere now. I get onto cnn.com and you or your precious Benny are on there.

Jennifer, this is the last time. You need to get over me. Please! Go away...give me my freedom. I have come to loathe you. Where I was once rooting for your success, I now secretly hope for your termination. Go away J Ho. It's over.