Johnson controls
who made who, the chicken or third leg?
Sometimes I like to rage at the tyranny of the experts to whom we’re all asked to bend the knee. You know, the upright urban planners who have masters degrees in being ninnies and keeping us all safe from ourselves.
But there are times when expertise is indeed handy.
When it comes to cancer, you go to an oncologist.
You need some false teeth? Well, you go see my Uncle Bobby.
The point is, for specialized work, you consult a specialist. And naming a business? There are entire firms dedicated to that. They're called naming specialists.
Like bad teeth, sometimes you don't know you haven't seen the right professional until it's staring you squarely in the face.
Riding to my son's soccer game the other day, I had one of those mistakes staring me in the face with its one big eye poking right out at me like the blow hole on a whale.
The company that if it dropped the ball, at least it has another one, is called "Johnson Controls."
Johnson Controls?
How do you let this happen?
I mean JOHNSON controls?
What the hell were they thinking?
Was every single twelve-year-old boy in the world busy when they came up with this name?
Did they not know?
I mean…
Really, dear reader, how could ANY human use the word ‘Johnson’ in the naming of their company and NOT think that people would giggle.
Pair that one name ‘Johnson’ with ‘control’?
Well then you end up with a world of perverts with their sick and twisted minds going out of control.
Or maybe dear reader, maybe it’s just me.
Because when I see a big white van with the words ‘Johnson Controls’ written on the side I have one simple question:
Who?
Who controls the Johnson?
Or is the Johnson in control?
It’s kinda like the ‘chicken or the egg’ question - only the penis version.
For many many men, the Johnson Controls them.
And for many men, they fall prey to ladies who control their Johnson.
The website for Johnson Controls claims that they are an HVAC and mechanical company.
I think they’re prostitutes.
Prostitutes with mechanical Johnson controllers?
That’s terrifying. Maybe they’re making an army of AI robot hookers hell bent on controlling our Johnsons. Or at least servicing Johnsons so that men can keep them under control.
I can see how this may unfold:
My morning began with complete failure of the Johnson Controls. Let’s just say that coffee wasn’t the only thing I was spilling.
Perhaps they could be a special underwear for teen boys who wear track pants and are asked to write on chalkboards in a human health and reproduction class filled with girls in volleyball shorts.
Jr was doing fine in school right up until the moment that he burst through his Johnson Controls and threw up a pup ten in front of the chalkboard. He’s lucky he didn’t put someone’s eye out with that thing…
A Johnson is naturally aggressive.
A Johnson has a mind of its own.
It will stand at attention when it wants and hide someplace warm when things get too cold.
Though we can’t control how our Johnsons react to external stimuli, we can control how we respond to our Johnsons.
But knowing that your Johnson has mind if its own and that it’s going to do what it’s going to do? That’s the true path to liberty.
And as a middle aged man?
My Johnson’s sleepy.
So with that image firmly in your mind dear reader, I bid you good night.
