Russell's Pheromones

Russell Carson enjoyed being a very small man with big thoughts about his pheromone production. Great thoughts, even. He understood that women preferred men with big dicks. He functioned with a powerful mental-will bundled into his diminutive, fair-skinned body, and, despite his size, he tackled one of the most fundamental and complex behavioral paradigms of the human experience. His endeavor consisted of understanding, and in turn explaining, to others—starting with his wife—the nature of man’s sexuality and lust his new pheromones.

His eyes were weakened from years of poring over texts in the library, yet Russell’s goal was to unravel the epistemology of desire. He hoped and prayed that he would logically and scientifically be able to explain his sex urges to his wife, Beth, if he could just summon the bravery to approach the pheromone topic.

For three years, he plotted his weekly biorhythms against the phases of the moon and his inner urges; making notes, he calendared, charted, documented, and deduced his findings.

Every day, he feverishly dwelt upon this matter, even while working at his job at the US Census Bureau, San Antonio branch, analyzing data on his computer. Einstein once said if you can’t explain something simply and clearly, it means you don’t understand it well enough. Before presenting his findings to his wife, and afterwards to the world, Russell made sure he identified the root of the problem and analyzed it thoroughly. Learn more at and

As a qualified mechanical engineer with a firm grasp on statistics, he foresaw his wife’s reaction to his truthfiil announcement. “Russell, you’re a no good, mother-fucking bastard. You’ll never amount to anything.”

“Gee, Beth, it’s just a theory,” he would sheepishly go back to his pheromone research.

Russell’s limbs tingled knowing the day would come when he’d explain his actions. His heart pounded at the thought of dragging the full realness out and exposing it. Perhaps a man who didn’t love his wife felt no qualms about lying to her, but such an act taxed Russell deeply. He over-thought about his secrets and hunted to release these dark and hidden ghosts out into the open air. Until he seized the courage to confront this problem, he’d camouflage and disguise his true nature from Beth.

“How on earth are you ever going to explain, in terms of chemistry and physics, such an important biological phenomenon as lust?” The all-knowing Albert Einstein asked. And here Russell wrestled, trying to find an explanation.

Russell contemplated: True, Einstein pondered more about love than lust, but where is the line between those two? If this confused Einstein, no wonder it confused women. Did Einstein, like me, keep these truths for himself? Did his great mind withhold the truth?

Love is difficult to define. How do you avoid confusing it with infatuation or lust? Philosophers and poets have attempted to discover what love is for years. From Corinthians to the Beatles, everyone has had a theory.

Is love really all you need? Wondered Russell, What verb is used more often and less accurately? Is the love of “I love sushi” the same as “I love God? ”


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