I constantly get these nerdy professor types telling me I'm missing out on the meaning of reading by skipping to the good stuff. I tell them to get back to me once they've 69'ed with 2 DD blondes at the same time. Look at me: do I seem like the kind of guy who's ever wrong? No fucking chance. I have an 8-inch cock and read Dostoevsky in 3 hours.

The formula is pretty simple--if you want to make some cash and pork sophisticated busty women, you've got to read. But who wants to sit through some crusty old Brit rambling on about the seductive power of a bare ankle? No one. The solution: have the guys at Reader's Digest cut out the boring shit for you. You get the plot, so if anyone tries to see if you've actually read the book, you're game. But since you can cut down your reading time by 80% you have some free minutes to try to convince the flight attendant to meet you in the bathroom for some mile-high-action.

The point is, it's time for those intellectual nerds to get off their high horses and enter the age of technology. When Shakespeare was writing, DVD players didn't have fast forward, but they do now, so we might as well use them. I've read 2 novels just since I started writing this editorial; how many have you? I'm successful, charming, and badass. And by the way, that stewardess on flight 651--I plowed her in the bathroom like 3 times, condensed style all the way.