Seriously, if you were that guy in the Paul Stanley dick pad meeting, you would become the biggest bore in the world: every single conversation you ever had from that moment on would be about the dick pad. You would be like one of those religious screwballs knocking on doors, but with a difference: someone knocks on your door and asks if you’ve heard the good news about Jesus, you close the door; someone asks if you’ve heard the story about Paul Stanley drawing dicks at a business meeting, you invite that fucker in.
You’d have t-shirts made with “Ask me about Paul Stanley’s dick pad!” airbrushed on them. You’d–
Blather on to sharply diminishing returns three posts in a row?
–yeah, sure. If you want to be mean about it.