The F-14 Tomcat Effect Affect

I was trying to think of something bad ass to write about just now and it triggered this F-14 Tomcat type reaction. If you've never experienced this it's sort of like your brain going from a relaxed, "wings out mach .4" state to a, "wings retracted, after-burners, we've got missile lock! oh my god, pull up Mav, mach .8 in a matter of seconds" mode.

This feeling is way more intense than that of brushing your teeth with Super Arctic Blast Toothpaste, or chewing New! 5 degree Gum while bobsledding could ever be. And while these are much cheaper, safer, less time consuming, and life ruining means to the same end; I'd say F-14 Tomcat is more sort of like being strapped to back of a bat-out-of-hell on cocaine trapped in a real tiny bird cage; a real frenzy that only ends when the little sky-rat has beat his wings into shredded pulps and dies of blood loss. Well, either that or like the first time ever going under the shirt, over the bra and some how managing to get nipple with one finger for like two seconds before the garage door starts going up. That shit was crazy.

There are actually probably a few ways to get to the F-14 Tomcat state of mind, but none of them quicker than waking up on the jungle floor naked, your hands bound behind your back with with rope made from your own hair, realizing there's a Howler Monkey eying a tenderloin of Honey Glazed Ham strapped to your abdomen.
Shit, that's like a heart attack in a can my friend.

But, you probably won't ever experience it. That is unless you're ever able to save every sneeze you've ever sneezed and some how bottle that energy (like say in a fire extinguisher) and then huff the entire thing as you blow your load in the face of a on-fire, runaway African Elephant headed directly into an oil refinery. Then, maybe you'll know where I coming from on this one. Maybe.