In the annals of human history, there are stories of people who stretched far beyond the boundaries of what is possible. Michael Jordon defied gravity. Shakespeare invented new landscapes of language. Ron Jeremy had sex with a lot of women despite looking like a cross between Danny Devito and Super Mario.
There are countless such stories of humans challenging themselves to achieve the extraordinary and inspire us all.
These are not those stories.
He Does What Now?
Pulls trucks with his penis. Like a motherfucker.
How many of you ever ran out of gas and resorted to pushing your car to the nearest gas station, the whole time thinking, "Man, this sucks, there's got to be a better way to move this car." And how many of you, while taking a shower the next morning, looked down at your penis and cried, "Eureka!" If your hand is raised, you should know your penis just put a restraining order on you.
If, on the other hand, you are a little sheepish about wrapping high-grade cable around your wiener and taking your automobile for an afternoon stroll, you're clearly not Tu Jin-Sheng. Utilizing an Eastern spiritual technique called Qigong, or "Iron Crotch," Tu Jin-Sheng spends his idle hours dragging tractors, trucks and airplanes around with mini-Tu Jin-Sheng.
This ain't no hobby for Mr. Iron Crotch. Tu Jin-Sheng is a bonafide Grandmaster of Chinese medicine. He is recognized as a professor of medical societies in Taiwan, Japan,and Canada because apparently in those countries they reward you a Ph.D. in yanking your junk. (Is that how it works? From now on you may refer to us as "doctor.")
And dragging private jets around isn't the only trick Tu's dong has up its sleeve. Qigong allows this Grandmaster to destroy his schlong in any manner of ways. Like this:
Notice the man kicking, with his foot so far up old Tu's baby factory he's actually kicking Tu's great-great-great-great-great grandchildren in the face? This guy is Tu's son. This kind of father-son bonding makes us jealous. When's the last time your dad said, "hey son, wanna go pay catch--with your foot and my dick?"
At IronCrotch.com (how did we not snatch up that URL?) you'll find all the equipment you need to develop an iron penis of your own. Here's Tu Jin-Sheng's instructional video:
We hate it when the cover gives away the ending.
You can also read more about Tu Jin-Sheng and his genital empowerment program at, we shit you not, The International Journal of Sexual Kung Fu. It should go without saying this is definitely NSFW, unless you work at the penis mutilation factory. In which case if you do, get back work! America's floundering economy is counting on you!
He Does What Now?
Snaps like a motherfucker.
Bobby Badfingers, who claims the title of world's faster snapper at 30 snaps a second, is a professional snappist whose live act comprises of, according to his website, "mixing finger-snapping with mesmerizing, pelvic-jutting dance moves, which he based on martial arts footwork."
And he looks like this.
Bobby is known for his signature look of tight black pants and a rhinestone-encrusted black silk shirt that exhibits three Robin Williams's worth of chest hair. Bobby not only appeared on America's Got Talent (didn't win) and The Wayne Brady Show, but also claims John Stamos and Rebecca Romijn as close friends. And you know the old saying: You don't get friends like that unless you can snap really fucking fast.
Bobby started his meteoric rise to the top of the snapping heap as you might imagine, as one insanely obnoxious kid. At the age of four, Bobby Von Merta struggled with ADHD, or what doctors then called the much more fucked up sounding Minimal Brain Dysfunction. Bobby's treatment differed little from the treatment we use in modern times: near lethal amounts of Ritalin. Ridiculously hyper and whacked out on horse pills, young Bobby channeled his beautiful mind toward snapping. Once he mastered speed he moved on to syncopation, honing his ability to mimics drum lines he heard on the radio.
And he looks like this.
Oddly enough, when Bobby achieved adulthood he did not immediately shape his supernatural snapping ability into a career. Instead, he said to himself, "What career could I pursue that's actually more detestable than professional snapper?" That's when Bobby became an RV salesman.
Not until a player for an oldies rock band discovered Bobby's amazing snapping chops--yes, he was discovered--did he finally make snapping a full-time job. Once he decided to go pro, Bob changed his name to Bobby Badfingers, presumably because Snappy Snapdouche had already been taken.
Today Bobby performs all over, and by "all over" we mean "Reno." John Stamos's mom reps him. And snapping live is only the tip of Bobby's plans for a "finger-snapping media empire" including a how-to book and instructional DVD titled Snapology 101 for Whippersnappers. Bobby also commissioned a live action/animation series titled Snapmaster Badfingers and His Homies. And because we don't think simply reading that title hurt you enough, here is an episode.
AND HE LOOKS LIKE THIS.
He Does What Now?
Stacks cups like a motherfucker.
In America, striving to be the best is a fundamental part of our identity. It's one of the three legs that make the stool that is America the strongest in the world, the other two being competitive eating and NASCAR. However, when grown-ups say we should strive to be the best in "everything," they don't actually mean it. It won't help you to become the best at, say, stacking disposable cups.
Unfortunately no one told this to Steven Purugganan. Eleven-year-old Steve had his whole life ahead of him until he captured the title of world's fastest competitive cup stacking champion. What exactly is cup stacking, you ask?
Holy shit! How simultaneously amazing and pointless!
We'd love to know what the future holds for this kid. Will he one day realize he spent his entire life without picking up one single useful skill, such as how to get a job or how to convince a girl that watching him stack cups is totally worth her removing her panties?
Or will he apply the same standard of relentless excellence to all of his endeavors? Could we come back 20 years from now and find a man who can, say, pop 30 yards of bubble wrap in a minute flat?
More likely, Steven will find himself as an accomplished surgeon who, despite a respected career and loving family, one night winds up stabbing a guy in a bar for being the thousandth one to demand Steven "do that freaky cup stacking thing for us."