I Can’t Believe It’s Not Fabio

Staring over a balcony at menopausal women who feel your healing energy wafting through their leathery bodies in waves? BAD IDEA.

Of all the oddball creatures New Agers have given us over the years, perhaps none stand out more than Braco the gazing healer. What’s his gig and why am I so jealous? Same question, really. He stands before a paying crowd of swooning, hot flashing women and their emasculated husbands and just stares. Stares at the crowd with the clueless blank gaze of a foreigner who was hogtied, blindfolded, and smuggled to a distant land to perform acts of sexual slavery on American businessmen whose egomaniacal lust for power has destroyed their ability to enjoy straight-up sex anymore.

Does Braco know what his power is? Does he even know why he’s here touring the country? We’ll never know, for the silent Croatian doesn’t speak a lick of anything, hence my descriptive, “silent.”

Keep up.

Braco. He is one handsome devil. Braco. Just say it. You know you want to. Braco. So very close to bravo and yet so very far away. Because at the end of a lifetime spent staring at horny old gals who have traded televangelists for you, you’ve got to wonder if your entire life was a… BAD IDEA.

2 Responses to “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Fabio”
  1. Rc says:

    What the fuck did I just watch……

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