I make no apologies for my erotic fire tonight
Burning your candle, I will, at both sensual ends,
You haven’t had a man touch you like a prophetic flame
That moist dream you had is about to pay dividends
You’ve languished in silent desperation long enough
Those selfish men indulgent in their own self-pleasure,
Having left you disenchanted with the notion of intimacy
You’ve fallen one too many times for the fleeting gesture
Of a sweet line, a paid-for dinner, flowers sent by assistant
When each of them has dissipated, what’re you left with?
You wanna put your hands on the granite chest of a man
Who’s neither storybook character nor fictional myth
I’m live and in the flesh, woman, you need me tonight
And you’re ready to unleash the hidden freak in you,
A quadruple of scotches on the rocks will tip our scales
I want every piece on you peeled away except the shoe
Paired, each heel not having yet touched the floor
Vertically positioned and then horizontally repositioned,
Innumerable spanks to coincide with the countless yanks
Woman, the animalistic lover in me you’ve commissioned
Your beck is my call, tonight you simply want it all
I’m prepared for you to slap me at the height of anger,
Take all your pent-up frustrations out on me, the G
Woman, I’m gonna phuck you like a handsome stranger
Your temperature’s rising and my hands are hypnotizing
Exactly a medical practitioner I must admit I’m not,
But while they’ve read books, I’ve tested on soft skin
You’ve read about me but tonight you’re the thickened plot
Stir you, I will, stir me, woman, is the ultimate thrill
Seems like you’re plenty ready for the unexpected,
You’ve been following me, even trolling me, across the ocean
And finally the man behind the words has been requested
To enact the prequel written so utterly beautiful
You’ve visualized everything about me pre-sexually,
The mind and the imagination are terrible things to waste
Woman, are you ready for this Pamper-Her-Friday intimacy?
______________
***
Pamper the woman . . . like a stranger in her dreams. -Rg2
Indications suggest you’ve caught summeritis
Is there any wonder I can feel you from afar?
You’ve remained elusive most all of spring
My lake house in Castaic, its door’s ajar
Come away with me on a preview excursion . . .
A spontaneous getaway from your urban demands,
Relieve you of sooted air and your driver’s duties
We’ll share a sherbet sunset as the horizon expands
Warmer days are in the offing; What are your plans?
Woman, have I ever crossed your mind?
The first time ever I witnessed your eyes . . .
It was obvious that we’re a twin-soul kind
How would you like to come away with me . . .
To the serenity of lakeside hammocks side-by-side?
I want you to experience the joy of flamingo sightings
A rowboat picnic for two, floating on the gentle tide
Strawberry mint juleps we’ll sip in the shade
I wanna swing you gently beneath the willow tree,
All the thoughtful little splendors your girlfriends wish
They’re inherent to this writer, woman, it’s me
A lakeside getaway, a cathartic take-you-away
Is exactly what you need for emotional balance,
If you’ll make me wholly responsible for your summer
I guarantee you’ll be blessed by my romantic talents
So what do you say, woman, can I sweep you away
For a preview of summer on the lake we’ll play,
On the hammock we can brainstorm our coming events
This weekend is the beginning . . . it’s Pamper-Her-Friday.
The Strikingly Beautiful Mother of Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2, Ms. Linda Brooks, and the Founder, her son, Rg2
Dear Mother,
I wouldn’t be mistaken if I assumed that each and every son the world over feels his mother is the most beautiful of them all. I can only hope they all feel such a way.
Call mine the ultimate bias. I know you’re the most beautiful.
The story that forever epitomizes my eternal love for you is the one of heartbreak. Upon losing your own mother at the tender age of 14, and your being the eldest of the Brooks kids at the time, Aunt Lina broke the gut-wrenching news shortly thereafter: “Linda, you’ve got to quit school and get a job to help out.”
Jarring must have been that sequence of unforeseen events, and that’s an understatement. A job at the hospital was lined up for you, your having no say in it, and the ultimate curveball of life had hit you like a swift bullet—your adolescence not yet fully formed. Your first paycheck was so paltry, you literally cried all of the long walk to a home you no longer recognized, and this, in the dead of winter of a frigid, unforgiving Canada.
That story, among the many others, lives in me so vibrantly, like a tattoo—as do you, mom. Somehow you matriculated an adversarial maze of a life, raising three kids void of any semblance of a parental guide, reconciling with your estranged father, all the while working (I honestly can’t recall your taking off one day in 30 years of tenured work) to achieve an enviable retirement.
Hard knocks are not just for the broad-shouldered.
Beneath that velvet, touched-by-an-angel, made-for-the-silver-screen exterior is no less than a warrior.
I see why father fell for you on first sight. And left America to become a Canadian citizen. A man, no matter his age, will go where true love lives. He loved you. That kind of love is rare anymore. Father was fortunate.
If I haven’t told you that you’re my hero, let Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2 be the record that speaks volumes. For you, mother, are the genesis of it all.
You are the “mother” of a quiet yet global movement that, in all your majestic modesty, you wouldn’t dare think of taking credit for. But you are.
I thank you for everything you’ve done for me. The prayers. The tough love. The gentle hand. The inspiration for charting my own path in forging a life worthy of my effort and my dreams. To remain true to our roots whether wealth or hardship.
We honor you on Pamper-Her-Friday and this Mother’s Day . . . and ever after.
I love you, mom.
Forever and always,
Your son,
Roy
______________
***
Pamper the mothers . . . for they are the life-givers. -Rg2
The new ZO2 Prime basketball sneaker from Lonzo Ball of Big Baller Brand®: A Market Disruptor debuts
My Angel,
In honor of Pamper-Her-Friday, I bought a little something for you.
Part gift, part conversation piece, part thought provoker . . . that a woman of your ilk would understand.
The ZO2 Prime signature basketball sneakers from projected No. 2 NBA draft pick Lonzo Ball, the UCLA one-year wunderkind, have debuted. I reveal the price tag—north of $500—not as some silly indicator of my love for you—frankly, that is priceless. Nor to imply the cost arguably borders on outrageous, as many feel. But simply to express an opinion.
The market will let a man know how it feels about his product.
Whether the shoe flourishes or flops, it makes a powerful statement on the very essence of the American gestalt: The ingenuity to imagine, build, and take the risk.
The critics say the father, LaVar Ball, is boisterous, audacious, even delusional. His sons don’t think so. The pundits say the son isn’t as good as the marketing implies. The draft’s opinion matters more. The naysayers say, “How dare the Ball family reach for the moon,” when the universe they’re used to has always posed limits. Even if they fail, the Balls will still be among the stars, no?
When Phil Knight and his partner Bill Bowerman brought to market the Nike waffle-sole running shoe in the early ‘70s (yes, conceived from a waffle iron), players like Converse, Adidas and Puma were established athletic-shoe powerhouses. How dare Phil try to shake up the market and establish his own brand.
He did.
Phil Knight may well be a fan of LaVar Ball’s. Sure, he also hopes he fails. Why would Nike want the competition? But, quietly, Phil understands and may well be rooting for LaVar. After all, he was LaVar back in the ‘70s. Phil said, “F@#k you!” to the established competition and chased his dream. The rest is Nike history.
Love, you know what I think about more than anything regarding this basketball saga? The poor, inner-city kid, the fail-but-try-and-try-again dream chaser, the would-be entrepreneur who has no financial backing except his savings and sweat equity, the Horatio Alger with only a dollar to his name but a vision he can’t get out of his head.
If established companies, to say nothing of the dream killers, exert total dominance over markets and refuse—understandably, to protect their market share—to allow new entrants, how will America continue its storied business prowess? Its intellectual, technological and economic dominance over global competitors?
Who had heard of a Google before it launched? And now that Facebook dominates social media, should Snapchat even bother? Of course it should. Why would Uber make the cab market uncomfortable? Because the market was ready for something new and perhaps more efficient.
Uber is a disruptor. Markets need disruption now and again because of simple human evolution. The market wants faster, better, cheaper, more convenient, more fabulous, more exclusive. The market apparently likes disruption. Otherwise those new entrants wouldn’t succeed.
Why should Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® bother to challenge the established romance space? Why not?
Why should a Barack Obama even try to disrupt such a historically exclusive club? Why not? Obama is the ultimate disruptor.
Big Baller Brand® is a disruptor. It makes consumers who are devoted to their established brands uncomfortable, not to mention the CEOs of those companies. But the market has proven throughout history that it makes room for newcomers. Whether that newcomer has the wherewithal to sustain its presence in the market will determine its success.
But the effort, the audacity to dream, to risk and to deliver, is the essence of the American spirit.
The Ball shoe may well fail. Quietly, I’m pulling for them, Love. And dreamers all over the world are pulling for them, too, truth be told.
Should they fail? Well, they tried. How many others have dared to try?
Just as I’ve tried to win your heart . . . on Pamper-Her-Friday. I can’t say I’ve succeeded. And the gift of these Ball sneakers certainly may not do the trick.
But aren’t I in your mind? Call me the “Romantic Disruptor.”
And for good measure, next Friday you’ll receive a delivery of sneakers of a slightly different brand:
The “Zero Dark Thirty” LeBron 14s—collector’s edition.
Why?
It’s Pamper-Her-Friday, Love.
Athletically yours,
Rg2
________________
***
Pamper the woman . . . regardless of the naysayers. -Rg2
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Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 