Atomic Dog
Stop the Presses!
by TC

The Atomic Dog is usually about current events, male issues, babes, panties, or anything else that strikes my hallucinatory fancy each Friday morning. Sometimes it’s serious, sometimes it’s inspirational, and sometimes it’s just a goofy flop that embarrasses the hell out of me, my family, and all human beings everywhere, living or dead. But hey, like an impoverished fisherman, I gotta’ keep casting the nets into the sea again and again in the hopes that I’ll drag up some laughs or inspiration or whatever else I’m fishing for that day.

Sometimes I’ll talk about stuff that wouldn’t, couldn’t be published anywhere else. Since I’m one of the bosses, I can say just about anything I want. Watch:

Poop!

See? No editor’s pen came in and wiped it out. Of course, my colleagues are wondering what the hell my problem is, but that’s okay. They’re an understanding lot.

In any event, new readers are often surprised because this column isn’t always about things pertaining to weight training or anything close. That’s because I think a lot of readers want to hear about stuff that has to do with being a man. In a country, where — until lately at least — estrogen has just been dripping off its men like sweat off a fat Texas girl’s Spandex leggings, we need a little ballsy dialogue just to remind us that we got these things clanking between our legs that were, according to the manufacturer’s specs, designed to spurt out this magic elixir called Testosterone.

I’m here to remind you to use those things clanking between your legs, to pull ‘em out, polish up their brass finish to a mirror-like luster, and take ‘em out for a spin on the Autobahn of life to see if those babies will break 150 mph. As they say, use ‘em or lose ‘em.

However, once in awhile, I get a Jimmy Olson, "Stop the presses, chief!" moment. Something comes along that’s so cool, so exciting, it blocks out everything else from my feeble mind. That’s what’s going on right now.

There tain’t no area of my brain that tain’t preoccupied with what’s happening at the Biotest farm.

It’s as if someone loaded 4,000 copies of Tomb Raider on my hard drive. There’s not enough memory left to even load my Microsoft Enema Simulation program.

So why is that pip-squeak Jimmy Olson hollering to stop the presses?

Okay, Mr. Impatient, suppose I told you that tomorrow morning, everything would be different? Suppose I told you that when you wake up tomorrow, you could walk through walls? Never mind that by walking through the wall you’d find yourself in Old Lady Warshensky’s apartment and see her naked, pale, varicose-vein webbed body asleep in front of the TV, it’d still be pretty cool, right?

Incredible would be more like it (not Mrs. Warshensky, but the fact that you could walk through walls).

I’m not crazy enough to promise you any super-hero type powers, but I just might be able to promise you the packaging of a super hero. In other words, I’m going to tell you about something we’ve done that will make your body look like it could bust through walls, run faster than a speeding bullet, be able to leap high buildings with a single bound… you know the drill.

What our scientists have done is come up with a pharmaceutical wonder. I’m not going to delve too much into the science of the invention because you can read about it in this week’s issue, but I will give you the lowdown.

What we’ve done is blow prohormones into obsolescence. Go into your medicine cabinets and clear all that crap out, because what you’ve got in there is now the pharmaceutical equivalent of the 8-track cassette or the LP record album. In fact, we had to invent a whole new category of drugs just to describe it. These babies aren’t prohormones; they’re pro-steroids.

And before you think we’re playing marketing-type games with words, let me tell you right here, right now, in front of God and country, that this new thing is just as good as a legitimate anabolic steroid. Use it correctly and you’ll gain 10, 15, maybe 20 pounds of muscle. Those of you who know me realize I don’t normally say stuff like that. I’m oh-so cautious about hyperbole, exaggeration, and marketing bullshit. When I shimmy out to the end of the supplement branch, I’m reluctant to go too far out lest the thing break and I fall butt-first into the rose bushes.

Well, this time I’m at the end of the branch, jumping up and down and hootin’ and hollerin’ because I know that I’m not gonna’ fall. I’m on the equivalent of solid ground here because this product, a little thing we call MAG-10, is our crown-jewel achievement. We may, truthfully, never be able to top it.

We didn’t just do some 8th-grade science project. As far as the chemical engineering is concerned, it’s more along the lines of what a drug company would do, rather than a supplement company. We’ve taken two phenomenal compounds, 4-AD-EC and A1E, and combined them to form a muscle-building chemical dyad that can safely deliver true steroid effects that are on par with those of a serious cycle. And, what’s more, we got rid of the nasty, as in no nasty side effects like those usually associated with steroid use.

That’s right. No hair loss. No breasts, Pamela Lee sized big ones, or even cute little-bitty ones like Charlize Theron’s (or, for that matter, like the ones on the chubby kid who works down in our mailroom).

Furthermore, the delivery system is equally incredible. It was designed by an engineer who specializes in drug-delivery systems, and it’s responsible for a significant portion of MAG-10’s efficiency. That means that you control the dosage, not the stubborn digestive tract or the equally pesky liver.

We’ve filed patents on all the ingredients in MAG-10. And, accordingly, unless we license other companies, Biotest will be the only place in the world where you can get 4-AD-EC and A1E. When you’ve got something this special, you want to go to extra lengths to protect it from vultures, copycats, creeps, and the other assorted vermin that roam the supplement countryside.

If there’s a drawback to this stuff, it’s that in a study where MAG-10 was given to laboratory rats, the pro-steroid caused them to grow to such alarming strength and proportions that they fashioned a crude battering ram out of compacted fecal pellets and busted down the door to their cages. A few of them are now starting in the Miami Dolphins offensive line, while a couple of others started a company that makes one of those nifty ab machines that you see advertised in infomercials on late night TV.

No, no, no. In all seriousness, if there’s a drawback, it’s that the stuff is so damn difficult to make. Each ingredient has to be synthesized. As such, it needs to be ordered waayy ahead of time, and we’re going to have a helluva’ logistical nightmare trying to figure out how much to order so that the supplies won’t run dry and cause mass-rioting in the gyms across the land.

Given the complexity of making the stuff, if we don’t get the estimate right, it might be six months or more before most people get to try it.

Consequently, we’re going to allow Testosterone readers and Biotest customers the ability to pre-order MAG-10, which would mean that the stuff will be coursing through your muscles in about 60 days or so.

This stuff is so good that I’m at a rare point where words fail me. Let me just say that MAG-10 is damn potent stuff. It is very cool. It will change everything. Biotest is about to provide you with your very own magic bottle, complete with a metaphorical genie inside that will let you abracadabra your body into almost anything you want.

I strongly suggest you read the article that Tim Patterson and Bill Roberts co-authored to find out more about MAG-10. Believe me, you’ll want to know more about what’s coming. The article is called Look Out, Baby, MAG-10’s Here!

Get ready to walk through walls. Get ready to be Superman, or at least look like him.

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