This Book Has Balls Page 18

  Jack Nicholson

  We don’t have this chapter without talking about Jack Nicholson. The Joker’s game was no joke. Jack’s stickman status was solidified in the late Sixties and throughout the Seventies, and the streets are still fucking reeling. Right now, at age eighty, Jack keeps four girls in the second row at every Laker game who are there to possibly join him for a late-night milkshake and a swim just for old times’ sake.

  Jack is a legend. And yeah, could I have researched even older-school legends and gone over what was happening in the days of Sir Laurence Olivier and Clark Gable, of course, but why the fuck would I do that? I’m not writing a history book here, I’m making a list. And Jack Nicholson’s mythology was building at a time we still hear about to this day. A time when the Playboy Mansion was going off, and Hollywood free-your-mind sexcapades were going down like never before.

  Jack was unfolding the loaf at the Mansion next to the monkey cage, and no one was saying shit. He had the grotto on lock, and they brought him hors d’oeuvres. He had Ms. June and Ms. July arguing over who would see his infamous “Shining Stick” first in the game room, all while Hugh Hefner in his prime was rocking the silk robe and watching Easy Rider in the movie room just to make Jack think he was cool. And I personally don’t think it’s over. Jack’s in his eighties and handling the game like a professional gentleman. And this is on some pure charm shit, too. Let’s face it, Jack’s not the best-looking leading man of all time. He’s not walking around with Clooney’s bone structure or Channing Tatum’s shoulders. He don’t give a fuck. He’s Jack, and that’s what separates the greats from the pack.

  To raise your stick game to nearly the same heights as your acting game? That’s amazing, not to mention exhausting. I’m tired just thinking about how late into the deep, dark nights Jack was going. And once again, like many a man before him, Nicholson was doing it pre-internet. There was no members’ dating apps making shit easy back then; this was straight-up, indoor, low-pro, true-to-the-art-form stick game. You’ll never see any cock shots from the Joker. He didn’t need them. This was when cocaine and pool parties were happening on Monday mornings. This ain’t no Justin Bieber, ass-naked-on-a-yacht shit. Jack didn’t need a yacht. He just needed a room. He and his crew were on some “show up at the party, walk in, no one talk, pick out the most beautiful woman, find the white horse, and handle your business” shit. This was the heyday of the sexual revolution. And Jack played it low-key and subtle. He dated Kelly LeBrock, all right? This is public knowledge. I’m not dropping any inside narc shit! Yo, Kelly LeBrock was so fine that they made a movie about the perfect woman built by geeks, and she played her. Jack was getting fictional robot pussy before Austin Powers ever hit the theater circuit. Those were the days. I’m sure there were many nights when he and my man Burgess Meredith just nodded at each other from across the room in the Playboy Mansion.

  Wilt Chamberlain

  They called him “the Stilt.” Obvious or not, he’s here. No first-ballot Hall of Fame stickman has had his conquests so openly disputed, discussed, or scrutinized as the Big Dipper. Despite it all, his scoring records on and off the court have yet to be broken, and he stood by his claims until the day he died. The number is twenty thousand. The man vehemently stood by the number of twenty thousand sexual encounters.

  Twenty thousand women in his lifetime, and, you know what, not one of them was married. This is 100 percent rumor and not fact checked, but it was from Mr. Chamberlain’s mouth, and he stuck by that story. I have no reason to not believe him, and it’s too late to ask. Now, look, I don’t even know if there are twenty thousand unmarried women on the planet, but he says there were. The man had over 31,000 points, and the infamous 100-point game, and averaged 50 points a game one season, all while laying some mean pipe across the United States of America. One misconception about Wilt was that he bragged about his fuck game. He never bragged about his personal conquests. People were asking him, and he just answered honestly like a gentleman. He wasn’t trying to prove anything. He was just “putting it out there for the people who were curious.” Yeah, Wilt, guess what, man: we were all fucking curious. I had my guy Ira do the math because I don’t have that kind of time, and here’s what he came up with. You would’ve had to have slept with five hundred women a year for forty years straight to put up those numbers. You had to have a few years of 750-plus to even make it happen, Wilt. Either way, I have to give it to you, my man. You did what you did, and the women never came back to sue or complain. They just remembered a good time with a good man and a great athlete. They’re raising their kids, and they’re keeping their secrets. They don’t make them like the Stilt anymore. Rest in peace, Big Fella. You had to be exhausted.

  Albert Einstein

  Albert Einstein is better known to some as Albert Einstick. Listen up, all you four-eyed, nerdy A students out there: your hero was also a great stickman. Married twice with at least six girlfriends during his second marriage, Big Al was working on the Theory of Pimping before he ever thought about the Theory of Relativity. He figured out long geometry during marathon threesomes. His brain and his loaf searched for answers to the world’s toughest scientific questions and found them in a bed with strangers. Einstein made a straight-up list of do’s and don’ts for his first wife, including she would cook, clean, and feed him with no guarantee he would return any romantic feelings, and then he made out with his cousin in public. While his brain was hyperevolved, his sex drive was in the animal kingdom. I don’t condone marrying your cousin or cheating on your wife while living with a gang of mistresses, but I’ll be damned if I’m not putting this legend right where he belongs. He deserves some slack. The guy was stressed the fuck out. You try figuring out Mass Energy Equivalence, the Theory of Relativity, and the random movement of particles and see if you don’t need an outlet to release some anxiety from your brain. RIP, Mr. Einsticker; your work and legacy still live on.

  Leo

  I’d be doing a disservice to this masterpiece of a book if I didn’t mention the “Master Piece.” This should not come as a shock to you at all if you’re living on planet Earth. I’m talking about the one and only “I’m the king of the world and I slept inside the body of a dead horse and fought a bear because the role called for it, then took home the Academy Award while at the same time saving the fucking planet from global warming” Leonardo Motherfucking DiCaprio. Yeah, this list ends with my man Leo. And once again, I have to say this is not strictly a numbers thing. This is a quality, quantity, privacy, modesty, and non-braggadocious all-multicultural extravaganza. This is a real-life nightclub athleticism, supermodel mixtape. Beloved by men, women, and children, Leo D is alone at the top of the list. Do you have any idea how cool, calm, and classy you have to be to do that many movies and to be on that many sets around that many people at all times and have no one ever, like never, ever say a bad word about you? You would be hard-pressed to find anybody to say anything bad about Leonardo DiCaprio. Leo takes home the gold, hands-down. He’s never taken a photograph with anyone under a ten. This is a man who shows up with the most beautiful women on the planet Earth, then takes a picture in a diner where he’s eating chicken noodle soup with his mother and his aunt. There is no one better with this. Leo doesn’t play games. I don’t want to go down the list of names and heights of the women he’s dated. That’s not the point of this at all. The point is that when it comes to the greatest stickman by pure definition, Leonardo is our number one guy. He loves his mother, he loves his father, he loves the planet, he loves the ladies, and they love him even more. Leonardo, my friend, you have made the impossible possible. Now, get back out there, throw on that grungy baseball hat, cool off the planet a few more degrees, keep doing your thing on and off the silver screen, and tell all the rest of these wannabe Stickmen Bozo the Clowns to shut it down, go home, put in a DVD of Romeo + Juliet, and get the fuck away, because the King of Kings is here to stay, and he’s a man of the people.

  ALL-REGION HONORABLE MENTION STICKMEN S
TICKLIST

  Matt Dillon

  Matt Dillon had the Eighties and Nineties on lockdown. My man had a pack of smokes rolled up in his six-dollar T-shirt and took down all the finest pieces in NYC while he was dressed like a gas-station attendant. Girls were giving it up to Matt to get back at their parents. Matt Dillon was an original bad boy. My man had his eighteenth birthday at Studio 54. You had David Bowie in one corner with Mick Jagger and a gang of millionaires in makeup, and eighteen-year-old Matt Dillon and a band of mechanics in another corner. I heard there was one year where he only had sex standing up—no shit. And please don’t tell me how well Rob Lowe was doing in the Eighties, okay? I get it. Rob Lowe did his thing, I know. I was there. I saw things I didn’t need to see. But Matt Dillon made the burnout in all of us know what was possible if we put our minds to it. I almost started smoking because of him, and I’m still thinking about it.

  The Guy Who Clipped Anna Nicole Smith When He Was One Hundred

  J. Howard Marshall II is an icon. I have to give him props. I have to. I don’t care what the hell was going on with his unit. Maybe it didn’t work, maybe it did. Maybe it looked like a sleeping Walter Matthau by the time it was all over. That’s not my business. I’m not a doctor. All I know is that this beautiful woman was on TV crying over him and really loved him, and to me, if you’re eighty years older than your girl and she’s crying on national TV over you, you’re doing something right. So, his loaf gets a major shout-out. RIP, Anna Nicole.

  Milton Berle

  Yeah, I know it’s a throwback and may feel random, but don’t get it twisted. The Leading Ladies of the Borscht Belt could barely walk after a week with Uncle Milty up in the Catskills. Milton was an anomaly, Jewish yet hung like an Italian sausage. Berle was the first to mix jokes and pokes, and the shit got serious. He bedded Marlene Dietrich and then shocked the Hollywood playboy circuit when he quietly joked his way into Marilyn Monroe’s happy place. That’s right, folks. Milton even went joke for joke and poke for poke with the great Lucille Ball, too. Not to hurt your eyes, but rumor has it he also gave the magical piece to Nancy Reagan in her heyday. That’s as real as it gets. If you look at Berle during the infamous comedy roasts of the Seventies, you’ll see the panel flinching every time he walked by on his way to the podium so they didn’t get clipped by the baby arm dangling from his region. Uncle Milton was a low-pro legend. From the age of twelve he was performing in Off-Broadway shows, and by the time his pubic hair grew, the no-joke, slow-poke machine was a certified King of the Kosher Salami. I know it’s a rough visual, since most of you know Milton as an older man smoking a cigar, but the facts are the facts, and I’d be doing a disservice to the stickman industry if I didn’t bring him up.

  JFK

  For Marilyn Monroe alone you’re on the list, bro. Period. You handled the finest piece of ass in all the world, and you did it while in office and let her in and out through the back door like it was your parents’ house. Did the loaf get you in trouble a few times? Did people disappear because of the things your loaf did? Did the FBI start Loafgate? Yes, to all of those things. But the bottom line is you’re one of the great stickmen of all time. Clinton doesn’t move you out of position either. No president does. You swam naked in the White House, and you ran girls out the back on some real rebel-in-the-neighborhood shit. You’re in.

  JFK Jr.

  Sometimes genetics plays a role in how you do with the ladies, and nowhere is it more apparent than with JFK Jr. From ’86 to ’93, JFK Jr. didn’t wear shirts. I personally saw him three times in Central Park riding his bike and felt uncomfortable when he rode by with his chiseled shoulders and hair made of black gold. He took down Daryl Hannah still wet from the mermaid movie, Cindy Crawford in her heyday, and went with true talent when he landed Sarah Jessica Parker in between Broadway gigs, then laid the political loaf down on Brooke Shields when she was still searching for colleges. He took down Madonna in a quick affair that had Jackie O unimpressed and confused, but like father, like son; the stickman never fell far from the tree. Junior was gone too soon in a plane wreck, but the streets are still talking and the legacy lives on. RIP, Junior.

  My Boy Vince from Middle School

  Vince was skinny as shit and came to school one day in eighth grade and said he had slept with his uncle’s girlfriend. I didn’t know what that meant, but to me he was a hero and a genuine stickman. Plus, he carried a cane and wore a fedora in high school.

  Sinatra

  It’s no secret that the Chairman of the Board was also the Chairman of the Bedroom. Old Blue Eyes is what they called him. The man needs no introduction. His loaf could’ve had its own musical career. It should have. It probably would have gone platinum. Who the hell knows what it would have sung about. I don’t give a shit. Put out a Loaf’s Greatest Hits and we’re listening. Sinatra is on the list for everything under the stickman umbrella.

  Madonna

  Yeah, I know she’s a woman, but guess what: she was taking young dudes off the streets and giving them hope for the future. Madonna was a great stickman because she was twenty years older than all the dudes she dated in the last ten years, and that makes her a legend and a hope provider for the youth of today, who need it more than ever. I love Madonna, and she’s still going strong.

  John Mayer

  As soon as “Your Body Is a Wonderland” hit the airwaves, his magic stick came off the tour bus, and panties dropped into the garbage. Forget the Katy Perrys and Jennifer Anistons. Do you have any idea the number of common street beauties from Kentucky to Rhode Island that got to take long walks after hearing Mayer perform? Mayer’s finger picking was used as a subconscious seduction method last seen from the great Chuck Berry. Mayer could have easily been up there in the main section of the chapter, but his face is too clean and his songs are too soft to make it into the true animal section. His hit single “Daughters” had to come with parental guidance warnings, and there’s not even a curse word in it. Women were seen listening to it and having “sleepwalking”-type symptoms, only they were walking in his hotel lobby and not listening to security when asked to leave. Mayer’s loaf belongs out there with that of the Mick Jaggers and Robert Plants of the world.

  Ed Sheeran

  Not only is my man single-handedly responsible for the rise of the ginger man’s ability to get busy, but he’s doing it all while riding a fucking beach cruiser. Sheeran looks half homeless and fresh out of high school, yet he’s putting up staggering street numbers and needs to be recognized. Turning down famously hot ass and saying no to prime-time snapper in exchange for writing time and song crafting, this redheaded gnome who could give a fuck about his hair goes down in our honorable mention section without hesitation. God bless him, we should all be so confident regardless of looks, dress, skin tone, or genetics. Give a man a guitar and a hit song, and it doesn’t matter if he looks like he walked out from under a bridge to get some food and then went back to bed in a sleeping bag. Redheads rise up!

  Warren Beatty

  Beatty didn’t make the “Greatest of All Time” list because it’s too obvious, and the stories are too well documented at this point. But for all you younger readers who may think of Warren Beatty only as the guy who fucked up the Best Picture announcement of 2017, learn your history. Mr. Beatty was once the King of La La Land. He was Mr. Moonlight. He is commonly referred to as the Stickman’s Stickman. They called him Mr. Wonderful.

  He set the bar so high, and his records and reputation are so untouchable, that actual studies are still being worked on to comprehend what he accomplished. So, when you see a living legend like this, stand up and salute him and all he did for the Stickman community. His legacy is untouchable and undeniable.

  DISHONORABLE DISCHARGE

  Alex Rodriguez

  A-Rod: Yes, brother, yes. This hurts me more than it hurts you. Every record you broke on the baseball field was most likely done on PEDs, so who’s to say the loaf wasn’t also on PEDs as well? Viagra, Cialis, or even that Cuban Missile C
risis Dick Drug we’ve heard so much about. We’re aware of your stellar work as a cocksman; we’re not denying the general accomplishments. Congrats. You brought Kate Hudson out of her good-family comfort zone, bringing Goldie and Kurt to games looking like two parents scared of their daughter’s new boyfriend. You clipped Cameron Diaz fresh off the silver screen, and we all watched Madonna show up at the stadium and act like she loved baseball. But we can’t put you in the mix, bro. It remains to be seen if the PEDs keep you out of the Hall in Cooperstown, but they definitely keep you out the Stickman Hall of Fame.

  * * *

  Note: This list is 100 percent unchecked and well documented by nothing. We’ve done extensive research yet can’t confirm the validity of anything on this list. I encourage you to add to this list or create your own.

  These Sneakers Are Made for Walking

  I used to love a fresh new pair of kicks: Pro-Keds, Chuck Taylors, Ponys, Nike, Adidas, Converse All Stars. When I was rockin’ them, I felt strong, and it felt like my game was better. I walked cooler, talked cooler. Sneaker swag was real.