During my two years here at Cracked, I've fought against irresponsible romantic advice publishing on five different occasions: I, II, III, IV, V. I won every single time. I held those books down and beat them until they knew it was their fault, and it was all training for this final boss battle against sex's greatest enemy: bestselling romance author and speaker, Gregory J.P. Godek.
Godek was an illegal bioweapons project by bitter, unlaid scientists to create a G.enetic O.rganism D.esigned for E.rection K.illing. G.O.D.E.K. throws out dating advice in the same way your body might throw out three pounds of uncooked meat. He thinks the idea of buying your girlfriend a pizza is enough content for three books. On Halloween, G.O.D.E.K. doesn't give out candy -- he gives children tips on keeping their marriage spontaneous with heart balloons and back massage coupons. And speaking of children, the following four books were printed on their flattened and dried remains:
Released in 2009 for $5.99, this book is a collection of 22 coupons you tear out and give to your lover. They're exactly like the chore coupons we all gave our mothers when we were seven, only less erotic.
Here, lover: probably nothing. In fact, it's an IOU for probably nothing. Godek, you'd have a better chance of getting laid if you bought her a snow shovel. And ladies, if you're excited about your date letting you pick out your own lottery tickets, you're probably too young to be dating a child molester.
If you're involved in a kiss that started with a coupon, it has as much chance of ending in sex as a cervical smear.
"I'm sorry, we don't honor those here, ma'am. Yes, I can see what the coupon says. It says your husband knows less about women than the person who made your dress. And it says the two of you haven't had sex since we've had a coloreds only bathroom. Now if you'll please get back to your couples square dancing class, we have paying customers that could use this table."
"OK, honey, your present is for you, just for one day, to shut the fuck up." This is a very dangerous coupon to redeem. Not because your woman might realize you're telling her to shut up, but because it's hard to tell the difference between the panicked flailing that says "you're on my hair" from the panicked flailing that denotes ordinary sex. And ordering food is almost impossible with body language. You have to keep dropping a love handle on the phone until Pizza Hut says, "Who the hell is th- oh, your wife must have used a language of love coupon again. We'll send your pizzas right over, Mr. Godek."
I can't fucking believe you used that coupon. The only thing that sickens me more than your pedestrian concept of romance is my willingness to indulge you in it. Why do we have to taunt our sexless marriage in this horrible new way? Is it really so hard for you to just die quietly? I will never forget that you and that coupon have done this to me. To us. To our children.
If that's your girlfriend's idea of spontaneity, scientists classify her as an igneous rock, except less wet. Telling a girl to order her own flowers is like telling a boy to give himself his own blowjob. She will not be happy or impressed. This coupon has less respect for the human clitoris than North Africa.
"Look, you're the one who redeemed the coupon, and I'm the one who ate Indian food and Indian food leftovers in the same day. So quit making faces and hold my hand through this. Hrnk! I'll be damned if I let you leave and tell all those bitches at your work that we can't even get through a romantic coupon together!"
Cuddling, snuggling, coupons and romantic comedies ... Godek, your ideas for dates sound like the side effects of chemical castration. You womanly little thing, the closest she'll get to fun on this date is when your pants come off and she laughs about how she thought you were a lesbian.
Re-released in 2001, Enchanted Evenings is a list of date ideas that retailed for $12.95. The tips range from pedestrian ideas like going out to dinner to retarded non-ideas like lists of Godek's favorite musicals. Despite its 137 pages, it has less actual content than a tampon applicator.
Yeah, and there's also a difference between wit and letting your brain pee wherever it wants. You're so stupid that your sperm can't figure out how to die during a wet dream.
Godek loves sex on a full stomach. He and his wife release so much gas during their love making that their bedroom sounds like Mexico City traffic. They're so accustomed to it that if you sit on a whoopee cushion near them they have a simultaneous orgasm and squirt hot dog water.
Hey, Godek. The fuck: you.
Sorry to have to do this to you, unwitting stranger, but the sight of Godek crying on top of his wife is too much of a burden for only two people to carry!
Ah, the classic songs that will make her say, "You remind me of both my gay fathers."
Just when you thought the fat content in Ben and Jerry's couldn't get any higher, Godek invites his wife to the factory. Face.
That's your whole idea? No wonder your wife's idea of a climax is watching you apologize from wet underwear.
Nice cleverness, dude. I can't tell if you learned sexual innuendo from a 12-year-old or a rape crisis center. Seriously, how did you get like this? You write like an alien monster left its dick in your brain.
So your idea is to take my date to an ATM? I guess she is a prostitute. Great thinking, Godek!
Judging from the rest of your book, you're going to need an extra pillow to weep into and six pizzas. And I suppose your wife just needs a large animal corpse to hollow out and fill with her eggs.
Hire a local youngster? Hire a local youngster!? Are you even listening to yourself, Godek? So this weird kid kickstarts your romance with Nintendo, and then what? "Thank you for the lesson, young lad. Yes, that's right. There's no way out. It's OK to scream. We like it when you scream. G.O.D.E.K.!"
Yeah, I get the idea that after you clean something there's more pubic hair on it than when you started. Is this really an "Enchanted Evening"? It seems like it only ruins housework and nudity. You have the personality of a bag of snakes and now you want to take your balls out while you wash dishes? Everything that you think is romance is what ancient people used to make their women sterile.
If you suggest this idea, your lover will react as if gallons of black fluid started spraying out of your mouth. This is skull-fucking crazy and so needlessly annoying to the rest of the world. I'm starting to get the feeling that Godek's boner can only come out when everything around him is trying to kill him. Which is probably why foreplay for him is fingering Old World lab apes.
And if your date doesn't speak English, this is a great way to warn her you're going to murder her.
I'm sure she'll have a blast too, Godek. And while you're rummaging around that poor woman with a flashlight, I'll get started on her suicide note so that afterward she can just sign her name and be done with it.
And a shark's every sense tells it your wife is a manatee.
I think Indiana Jones would be wondering why his starter is so salty, and Princess Leia would be using The Force to sense ... a presence ... yes ... the annoyed waiter's nuts ... soaking in your soup.
Why would I do any of this? To know what a dead foot feels like when maggots eat it? It's bad enough that this is the same damn enchanted evening suggestion as the one right before it, but those are the four most irritating impersonations you could have picked. I mean, Captain Kirk on a date with Lucille Ball? I think that would go ... a little something like this: AUTHOR GREGORY J.P. GODEK BEATEN TO DEATH BY RESTAURANT. NO ARRESTS MADE. INVESTIGATION CLOSED.
Jesus, it's like all the evil in the world collected inside this one asshole. I'd like to meet Godek's parents so I can ask them if there were skeletons pouring blood on them when he was conceived. His dark mind ... it's what an abortion would think if it knew what was being done to it. When Godek dies, if that's even possible, it will blast a pyre of insects into the sky to devour all our gods.