Mission through radio.
In my own way, I was born fully grown.
I was born Ilyrio Zapata, Domingo, Franceso, Juan Paco Medina, Ruiz, Luis Vega Rosendo, Sanchez
Sanchez.
My father died shortly before I was born.
He mulled the cartels product north of the border in a balloon burst in his ass.
Life got hard then.
My mother was at work all the time.
I was left on my own.
She said she used her mouth to make her living.
I used to think that that meant singing, but now I'm not so sure.
Welcome to season 2, Episode 3 of Mission through radio.
Back in the day when I was in college, I sold tires and a Sears tire and auto center.
I think those places are all gone now.
Sears is pretty much defunct in general, right?
But anyway, I sold tires at a Sears tire and auto center.
And I worked for a guy in my boss.
He was a guy named Butch.
And I'm not shitting.
His name was literally Butch.
He was a literal Butch on his driver's license.
His Butch because I didn't believe it either.
I was like, what's your name Franklin or something like Milton or something fucked up and
you go by Butch?
And he said, no, it's my actual name.
And he looked at me like I'd lost my mind.
I can't believe I'm the only person that ever asked him that question, but apparently I was.
But anyway, as you can imagine with a name like Butch, he was a man of few words.
And he said something to me one time that really fucking stuck with me.
But he was talking about one of my coworkers, one of the new hires, how he was constantly
running his fucking app.
And he said something that I don't think I will ever forget.
Butch in his very leconic style said this.
People when they meet you automatically assume that you're a fucking idiot.
The best thing you can do is keep your mouth shut because when people open their mouths
more often than not, they confirm the assumptions.
Now I'm not going to say that Butch's words of wisdom changed my life and anyway, I was
never one to engage people in conversation anyhow.
But I have to admit, even now when I meet new people or I find myself in a situation
where I have to interact with someone that I just don't know.
Butch's rich baritone rings in my fucking ears.
People assume you're an idiot.
To just keep your fucking mouth shut, lest you prove them right.
It's astonishing to me that especially in the day and age of the smartphone, more people
don't just exercise their right to keep their fucking mouth shut.
It's a phenomenon.
It was always there.
There was always a person in the fucking room who couldn't stand silence or couldn't
stand the blank space who had to fucking prattle on about anything in order to get any kind
of engagement from anyone.
That was something that's always happened throughout human history.
This is not new.
However, in the wake of COVID, things have changed.
I don't know whether it was the fucked up forced isolation.
I don't know if the internet has made everyone feel like they're the star of any room
therein.
I don't know if it's a side effect of the fucking vaccine.
All I know is that before COVID, when you would find yourself in an enclosed space with
someone you don't know, and they tried to engage you in small talk and you didn't engage
back, eventually they would either leave the enclosed space or they would take on board
that you were not interested in fucking talking to them and they would shut the fuck up.
Post COVID, however, what I'm finding is that people try to engage me in small talk.
They realize I'm not gonna fucking engage back and then they just keep going and going
and the shit that they say gets more personal and more personal and more personal until they're
revealing shit to me that they shouldn't fucking tell anyone.
For example, the other day I was at Walmart getting my oil changed, sitting in that fucking
glass walled side room with a lady who was there to also get her oil changed.
We were the only ones in the room and this is the interaction.
Boy, they sure aren't moving very fast today, are they?
I offer her nothing but silence.
Never have someone say a bunch of negative shit about you.
Just tell everyone they know all your business.
Well the lady cuts my hair, Serena.
She's been telling every lady who puts her ass down in that chair how I sleep with my
dogs.
What?
It don't happen very often but occasionally I like to get into Keelin next thing you
know them German shepherds is running a train on me.
I'm not gonna lie, it feels good it's the acceptance and the way that they love me
and they cuddle me afterwards.
God damn it, I just wanna be held sometimes.
You know what I mean?
Sometimes you just wanna be held.
And she tells everyone about this.
Do you believe that bitch?
Tells everyone she sees.
Every person sets her ass in that chair to get their hair did, gets the story of how Lorena
likes to fuck her dogs.
It's not something that I can control, okay?
Well, Lorena there's always people who have negative things to say.
What they say is a reflection of who they are instead of who you are.
Yes.
Absolutely.
God damn.
I'm gonna say maybe once every two, three months I fuck all them dogs.
It ain't something what happens all the time.
It ain't like we're in love or nothing.
It just, it just, it just happens.
It just happens.
And Serena acts like she ain't never fuck no dogs or thought about it.
Yeah, I totally understand Lorena.
That sort of thing could happen to anyone.
Your god damn right it could okay well I got to go pay for my oil change.
It's been so nice talking to you.
What the fuck?
Now that was the much abridged version of my interaction with Lorena.
Moving forward I think I'm gonna give you a taste of the entire progression.
Same oil change, different skank.
This chick identified herself as.
Brittany.
Do you have any idea what's going on in the world of hip hop right now?
I broke my phone the other day.
No, I don't really keep up with hip hop.
Oh my god, then what do you keep up with?
It's just like so fucking fascinating to me.
It's like it's own little world.
The things that go on in the world of hip hop, it's like it's own little universe.
It's just so fucking fascinating.
I can't get enough of it.
And I find myself subscribing to all of the different services that follow.
I don't even look up.
I just sit there looking down at my phone.
Of course I've never met anyone famous.
But I think that if I could, like if I was one of those like fucking make a wish kids
or something like that, I think it'd be someone from the world of hip hop.
Like Lil' Juicy or Lil' Gravy or
Lil' Chucky.
One of those guys I think.
I think I'd fucking totally want to meet one of those guys.
You know, my boyfriend and I, well I should say my ex, boyfriend and I.
And here we go.
Notice the progression.
At first she asks something benign.
Like how long do you think it's going to take to get my fucking oil changed?
Then do you happen to know anything about the world of hip hop?
Then when I don't really engage, she continues fucking yapping.
Sitting there on the bench, incidentally surrounded by fucking magazines.
Then she could use to occupy her time and keep her fucking mouth shut.
Instead, she's hyper focused on me and she's prattling on and on and on.
And now it's starting to get personal.
Yeah, Brittany, why don't you go ahead and tell us about you and your fucking ex-boyfriend.
Well, my ex-boyfriend now, he was so smothering.
He was so fucking controlling.
He was a total fucking narcissist.
Oh yeah, narcissist.
Lots of women are dating those.
I know, it's fucking crazy.
It's like we're just fucking breeding narcissists.
What did he do that was narcissistic, Brittany?
Well, I guess it's like my own fucking fault, sort of in a weird way because we were having
a conversation one day and I asked about hall passes.
And he said that he didn't need a fucking hall pass for anyone, which is super fucking
cute but it's such a fucking lie, of course.
It's like if you could fuck anyone, why wouldn't you choose a celebrity?
So I told him mine.
Mine would be little crush or little pump or little nostril or cheesy fish gravy or any
one of those fucking hip-hop superstars.
And he was super disgusted because you know he's insecure and he didn't know that I was
into the blacks like that.
Yeah, Brittany sounds like a total narcissist.
So I am barked on a journey to find myself.
Like fucking, I need to know who I am and naturally that led me to only fans because I'm not
trying to fucking work.
That's the thing Jeremy, that was his fucking name.
Everyone named Jeremy is super controlling.
Did you know that?
Statistically more narcissists are named Jeremy than any other fucking name.
I had no idea, Brittany.
That's super fascinating.
Isn't it?
But Jeremy took care of all the bills and just fucking paid for everything.
So it was kind of a fucking bummer that we broke up because like now what am I going to
do for money?
And then I like fucking broke my phone and now I don't even know what's going on.
I don't know if I'm getting new subscribers or if I'm losing subs because I haven't been
on for a few days.
I'm like totally freaking out.
I like recently did my first anal scene.
I'd done anal before like in my personal life but I'd never done anything with any kind
of implements.
You know what I mean?
But anyway, I totally key-starred a fucking bowling pin.
It took forever.
Like for fucking ever to get that bowling pin up there.
It was so crazy and it hurt so bad.
I just hope that I get so many subscribers and followers out of it.
Now this is where I always reply with an inspirational meme that I've seen on the internet.
Keystering bowling pins.
Oh good on ya.
All things are difficult before they are easy.
That was the only meme I could think of right off the top of my head that you could apply
to anal.
It was either that or a number two pencil on a dream can take you anywhere.
I guess that could apply to anal as well.
Yeah, I totally understand what you're saying.
That's like so fucking wise.
It's not that I like want to get good at keystering things like bowling pins and fire hydrants
but if it gives me a competitive edge and gets me in the top 1% of only fans earners,
I really just need a way to support my lifestyle.
You know what I mean?
Cause work, it's just like not for me.
Look at me, I'm fucking hot.
Okay, well I'm gonna walk around the store and talk to you.
People can't fucking help themselves.
People literally cannot help, prattling on until they reveal too much.
But that's the thing.
That's the phenomenon that just blows my mind.
There was a time when you would sit there after an encounter like that and go fuck.
Did I just tell that motherfucker my entire life story?
But I don't fucking think Brittany is out there walking the aisles of Walmart thinking
I don't even know that fucking guy's name.
And I told him that I want to fuck basically everyone in the fucking world of hip hop.
My ex boyfriend paid for everything and instead of getting a job, I'm just gonna show everyone
my asshole on the internet.
What the fuck is going on?
What the fuck is happening to people?
Here's another interaction and this is a little bit of a dramatization but not fucking
much.
The characters was talking about shitting on a coffee table.
This interaction is where the inspiration for that fucking bit came from.
I was down at the VA and I was waiting to get called back to get my fucking glasses adjusted.
He was just me and one other guy.
And I could tell by the look on his face, he was not gonna be able to fucking sit there
in silence and wait for his turn to get called back.
No, he was gonna fucking start with the small talk.
Hey man, you using the Navy?
Yeah, I was in the Navy.
Hey yeah, me too, goddamn, I was in the Navy back in the 80s when we didn't do nothing.
You know what I mean?
Like I can't even get into the VFW because there wasn't no fucking foreign wars to fight.
Yeah, I've met a lot of guys like that.
Kind of a good deal though if you think about it.
Oh god damn, everybody asked me how many fucking kills I got in shit.
I never even fired a fucking M4 and M16.
.
No, I just did your basic quals that you do at boot camp, the 9mm in the shotgun and then
that was it.
Piece time.
I was a piece time sailor.
That was back in the days when we would sail from port to port basically just to fucking
spend money.
Kinda sounds like a good time actually did.
And then I go back to looking at my magazine.
It's the thing about these fucking places.
All of these places where you have random encounters, they're just littered in fucking magazines,
periodicals, news papers, any manner of fucking reading material.
But nobody fucking reads anymore, I guess.
And they sure as hell aren't into letting me read.
A few moments go by with no words exchanged.
And then he starts in again.
Now I was just sitting over here thinking about that time I was in Australia.
Did you ever make it down to Australia?
No I was an East Coast sailor so we went directly to the fucking Middle East and then turned
around and came directly back.
Oh man you missed out.
Then fucking Australian ladies got damn they were some fucking dirty little whores.
I say nothing and just look back down at my magazine.
We made port in one of their towns and tried to remember the name of the fucking town.
I think it was Perth.
It wasn't Sydney, I know that.
I think it was Perth.
They met us on the fucking
way.
And then Shiloh grabs me by the hand and lays me down on the ground and I'm thinking okay
this shit here's about ready to kick off.
And that's when the other girl now I don't remember her fucking name now.
It's been goddamn, it's been a long time.
I just told you her name was it Cynthia?
I think it was Cynthia.
Now Cynthia strips down but naked now.
It blew my fucking mind.
The optometrist assistant calls my fucking name.
So I tell you these stories and give you these little vignettes and anecdotes for this reason
here.
Give it a shot.
Find yourself in an enclosed space with someone you don't know.
Don't interact with them in any way and watch what happens.
Now in fairness 85 to 90% of the time what you're going to see is somebody bury their
fucking head in their cell phone.
And that's just fucking fine.
That's actually perfect.
That's all anyone could ever ask for in an interaction.
Don't interact with me but that 10%.
That 10 people out of 100 or that one person out of 10 who's not going to be satisfied to
read the fucking magazines and old newspapers or dick around on their fucking phone or watch
the fucking prices right on the shitty TV in the waiting room.
That person that one in 10, that diamond in the rough, is going to give you something
to talk about for years and years.
If you just follow these simple instructions, do not engage.
Do not interact.
Do not buy into the small talk because once you buy into the small talk you're in small
talk land.
So if you don't engage in the small talk, they'll eventually move on to something a little
bit more personal, a little bit more important to them, a little bit closer to home.
Engage with that, minimally, just to be polite and then watch them fly off the fucking
rails from there.
It happens everywhere I go.
It's absolutely the pinnacle of idiotic humanity.
And on one hand it's fucking super annoying.
But on the other hand, I'm fucking here for it.
How can I not be?
I would have never got that fucking shitting on the coffee table story.
If I hadn't had that stupid mother fucker at the VA not be able to fucking keep his
mouth shut.
So I did get that fucking nugget and it was wonderful and I've used it on missing through
a radio.
I guess technically twice now.
But for the most part it's just fucking annoying.
Alright.
On to the next segment.
Welcome to the Boomerbunker podcast.
We're at a jersey where we don't sugarcoat a damn thing.
We call it like we see it.
Loud, proud with a side of attitude.
Politics, culture, everyday nonsense.
It was this poor fucking middle-aged bastard standing at the fucking stove.
Cooking.
And while he was cooking his wife, I'm assuming it was his wife, was standing there recording
him while he was cooking and while she was berating him, telling him that this is what
he needs to be doing and this is what he deserves to be doing.
And she shouldn't have to fucking cook for him and frankly she's not gonna fucking cook
for him anymore.
And this is the sort of thing that he should be doing for her after his fucking 12 hour
shift.
She's been at home all by herself, trapped up in that fucking house all day and what
she should be able to expect when he gets home is for him to walk in, drop his fucking
gear on the table and get to work preparing her a home cooked meal.
And she was shit talking him the whole time and you could see how humiliated he was.
And he was embarrassed.
You could see on his face the wonder why do I put up with this shit.
Well frankly it's cheaper to keep her but back to the video I gotta say I think the video
was satire.
I really do it but I can't imagine any man standing there taking that fucking beating from that
stupid fucking broad after a 12 hour shift.
I just don't see it.
But maybe I'm wrong.
So I watched that video and I was really frankly kind of upset.
Upset at the possibility and even probability that not only did that bastard have to experience
something like that but that his experience if it's real was not at all unique.
And furthermore now I didn't put any fucking effort into researching it.
Frankly I didn't feel like being pissed off that day but furthermore I can only imagine
the types of comments that a video posted on the fucking social media would garner.
You go girl, burn your fucking brawl.
Glorious Steinem would be so proud blah blah blah shit like that.
And then when I was editing the last bit, specifically the part where Brittany was talking
about how she just got out of a shitty relationship and she was finding herself by ramming things
in her ass on only fans.
As I was editing that bit something occurred to me.
Something that I can't believe I hadn't thought of before.
Something that I can't believe is not talked about more.
Women throughout the course of human history have been using small dogs, random implements,
rocks, vegetables and now fully automated latex covered implements in order to get themselves
off.
And they've been doing it in the name of self care and self love and self pleasure because
men just don't know what the fuck they're doing down there.
They can't find the fucking G spot.
They don't know where the clit is.
They wouldn't know a labia from a labrador so we gotta take matters into our own hands.
Because we're empowered, we burned our fucking brawl, we don't cook for nobody, we're
not doing laundry, we're not cleaning shit.
We only want to work certain jobs and now we don't even need your penis.
Women have been fucking everything.
Being men, since the beginning of time.
So why is there such a stigma attached to men doing the same thing?
Think about it.
It's just taken as understood that whatever's in the night stand on your wife's side of the
bed, you don't fucking talk about.
It's just taken as understood that when she goes to those fucking parties with her girlfriends
and comes home with a black bag full of shit, you're not to really ask what's in that
bag.
It's just taken as understood that implements are part of a woman's sex life.
So why is there such a fucking stigma attached to men doing exactly the same thing?
Well in my very simple mind, I think it's fairly obvious.
Women have been in control of straight, male pleasure since the beginning of time.
And they are not in any hurry to relinquish that power.
Think about it.
If you're a man of a certain age, what stupid shit have you done in order to get laid?
Men will do almost anything in order to get a woman to say yes.
Why?
What the fuck for?
Take a fucking step back.
Take a 700 foot view of the situation of your situation.
Why are you doing all of the shit you do in order to get fucking 15 seconds in some vagina?
What for?
Why?
Why do you deal with it?
Why do you deal with all the fucking mood swings and the horse shit and the needless expense?
Why are you living in a fucking house where you're surrounded by shit that is not yours?
Why are you doing this?
Because it's what you thought you were A supposed to do and B the only way you can get laid is to have one live in the house.
So I'm here today to tell you there's a better way.
On the market for years there's been a thing called a flashlight.
You know what a flashlight is?
Let me tell you.
It's a very simple cylinder with a latex mock up of a vagina.
You literally put your dick in it and fuck it.
And then when you have finished, hopefully you clean up, but you don't have to, it's your flashlight.
And there's not some annoying fucking woman attached to it.
So you can literally just throw it in a drawer and go live your fucking life.
No cuddling, no fucking runs to get chocolate with your fucking dick stuck to your leg.
No passing out and waking up to some girl screaming and asking who you are and how Commission
got here. None of that shit.
All of that shit goes away with the purchase of a flashlight, but women are evil geniuses.
Like I said earlier, they have had the monopoly on straight male pleasure since the beginning
of time and there in no fucking hurry to relinquish that power.
That's why no one's talking about this.
Everyone's scared to be labeled an in-cell or a pervert or to be told that their animal instincts are just fucking disgusting.
Everyone is scared to be labeled something, a deviant in some way.
Well fortunately for all of mankind, I am not scared of such labels.
Your boy Lorenzo's gotcha.
And I am here today to champion the cause.
I will be the poster boy, the champion.
Can we just goddamn normalize flesh lights for men?
I mean, look at the shit that women are doing.
The cervix sandblaster 3000.
With a powerful brigs and stratum motor, this fuck toy will guaranteed get your juices flowing, or your money back.
Pair with optional patented rectal record attachment and daddy's home throat grabber,
and your lonely nights will transform into hours of pleasure.
Please use in a well ventilated area and keep away from children.
But I'm a fucking pervert if I have a flesh light.
How about this?
Ladies, experience the newest thing in self-pleasure.
The anal assault colon catastrophe.
bore out your butthole with best in class low-end torque.
The four-speed automatic transmission willav you scream coming all the way to your colostomy bag surgery.
Our signature gyration and patented bad girl ass spanking attachment
will remind you why anal assault is at the forefront of booty banging.
Get yours today.
But I'm a fucking in-sell if I have a fucking flesh light.
Or what about this?
Hey girls, listen up.
I want to introduce you to the best thing I ever did for myself.
When my boyfriend dumped me, I thought my love life was over.
But boy was I wrong.
My mom introduced me to Tyrone.
And now I am here to give you the same gift she gave me.
Meet Tyrone.
Tyrone is a fully automated pleasure bought made by the most trusted company in the sex toy industry.
Creamy fist.
Tyrone will fuck, lick, suck, bite, grab, choke and pound you into tomorrow without the credit hit and thread of domestic violence.
Allow me to demonstrate.
Tyrone, get hard.
Tyrone, tell me what you want to do to me.
Bitch, I'm gonna fuck the hell out of you.
I'm gonna beat the dust off that pussy.
I'm gonna beat that pussy all the fucker.
Go all up in your guts with this fucking dick.
With this fucking dick.
With this fucking dick.
Tyrone, that's enough now.
Put it away.
Get your own Tyrone today.
CreamyFist.net is accepting orders.
Don't delay.
But I am a filthy fucking deviant degenerate if I have a flesh light.
Men, listen to me.
Listen to your champion Lorenzo.
Listen to me speak the truth.
You don't have to fucking live this way.
If you're a guy who couldn't get laid in a morgue, buy a flesh light.
If you're a guy who's just getting started on your own and you're not really trying to chase women, buy a fucking flesh light.
If you're a dude who is fucking predisposed to rape, buy a fucking flesh light, rape the shit out of it,
and throw it in a drawer.
Or if you're just a fucking guy who is sick of her fucking shit.
Buy a fucking flesh light and throw that bitch out in the street and tell her to stop fucking bothering people.
Listen, I know the point of us being on this earth is to procreate and carry on the bloodlines and blah, blah, blah,
and all of that fucking bullshit.
The bottom line is you need to change the way you think.
Motherfucker, you're already alive.
Okay, fuck future generations, fuck the fucking birth rate.
Who gives a shit?
Bill Gates has been trying to depopulate this,
that Earth forever, the COVID vaccine was nothing but a fucking sterilization program, I defy you to fucking prove me wrong.
So lean in.
Agree.
Stop going out there chasing fucking chicks.
Stop changing who you are on a fundamental level in order to satisfy the opposite sex.
Give it a fucking rest.
Buy a fucking flesh light.
And tell those bitches to take a hike.
Buy a fucking flesh light.
Get out from under the thumb of these fucking broads.
The China is great.
It really is.
I fucking love it.
But is it worth all of the fucking shit that comes along with it?
Of course not.
All right, I gotta stop.
Thank you for listening to this episode of Miss Anthropor Radio.
This is where I'm supposed to say like, share, and subscribe and shit like that.
Well, I'm not gonna fucking do that.
My only thing is I hope you dig the show.
That's all I want.
I want you to follow Miss Anthropor Radio version 2.0 on whatever podcast app you prefer.
And when you see a new episode pop up, I want you to go, oh shit.
Let's see what Lorenzo has in store for us this week.
That's all I want.
That's literally as ambitious as I get.
All right, until next time.