Pablo Escobar Gaviria

Pablo Escobar is responsible for more bathroom stall blow jobs than any other man in history. Interestingly enough, Pablo himself would never have entered any such bathroom thanks to his inescapable fear of dirty toilets. Pablo is also the inventor of the Colombian neck-tie: slitting a man’s throat and pulling his tongue out through the hole. Such are the accomplishments of history’s greatest cocaine mogul. Thanks to his tireless efforts in the creation, harvesting, and distribution of cocaine throughout North and South America, Escobar became a multi-billionaire and the progenitor of a booming drug empire that confounded the Colombian government, the American Military, and Nancy Reagan

Nancy couldn’t stop Pablo. Ronnie couldn’t kill Pablo. George the First sent the military after Pablo, but ultimately couldn’t take him down either. Perhaps he should simply have asked hisson to sniff out a lead.

Pablo started out as a poor boy in a poor town in poor Colombia. He was born in Rionegro, just a day’s walk from the eventual headquarters of his empire. For the people of Medellin, the urban namesake of Pablo’s cocaine cartel, Escobar would become a hero, a builder of hospitals, and a leader of men. For American yuppies, he would become a facilitator of all-night orgies, nose bleeds, and Sammy Davis, Jr..

In the early 60’s, Colombian farmers grew and sold coca plants and extracts to outside interests, never really paying attention to what the vegetation was used for. When Escobar came of age in the late 60’s, he quickly realized that all this coca was being snorted up the noses of the rapidly expanding drug culture in America. As such, he decided that the best way to make money off of the sale and processing was to control all sides of the business.

He quickly took over the coca fields around Medellin, paying farmers and workers double what they were making on their own. Escobar then opened processing labs and facilities nearby to turn the plants into sweet, sweet nose candy. Finally, he sent friends and relatives north to America as cocaine Amway salesmen. It’s not a pyramid scheme! It’s a party, man!

By the mid 70’s, Escobar’s efforts allowed entire packs of sweaty bald guys to get their rocks off in the bathrooms of Studio 54.

But the United State’s government wasn’t getting any blow jobs from teenaged coke whores. In a jealous rage, it sent the DEA to shoot communis… er, drug dealers in South America. By the time Reagan was in the white house, Escobar was forced to hide his refining and processing facilities.

But by 1982, Pablo Escobar was raking in billions of dollars from American coke heads, and he used those funds to win the hearts and minds of Medellin residents. He built hospitals, schools, and low income housing projects for his loyal workers. By years end, he was even elected to a seat in the Colombian congress.

No lawyer would prosecute him, no judge would hear a trial against him. Pablo was untouchable thanks to mountains of cash and walls made of armed goons. Yet for all his wealth, he was still hounded by a singular, mindless, unshakable enemy: mildew.

Escobar was positively phobic of dirty toilets. His bathroom was private; his only, and it had the be cleaned by hand three times a day. His home was kept spotless, and he took great pains to insure no blood got on the carpet when he shot business partners in the head; a cliche that has spilled over into many movies.

In 1989, Forbes magazine listed Escobar as the seventh richest man in the world. Despite his wealth, Pablo was living the life of a fugitive. There were arrest warrants issued for him in both Colombia and the United States. He was offered clemency if he turned himself into the Colombian authorities and gave up his empire. After a botched assassination attempt by a rival cartel, Pablo turned himself in to Colombian authorities.

Escobar renovated the Prison he chose for his stint in jail. The facility was on a hill top, and Escobar spent millions of dollars to turn it into his own personal fortress. When all was said and done, he was basically serving his time in a castle guarded by the military. He removed all cell doors and bars, had the bathrooms ripped out and replaced, and placed new parapets around the building for the guards. They weren’t keeping him in; they were keeping everyone else out.

The US monitored Escobar’s actions from outside the prison walls, unable to enter due to the highly motivated and bribed Colombian military prison guards. Pablo began conducting business by carrier pigeon and word of mouth, since he soon realized that his phone conversations were being tapped.

In 1992, Pablo left his swanky jail. His empire was being abused from all sides. His fields were burning, his dealers were changing teams, and the coke-fueled disco was giving way to the ecstasy-powered rave.

While on the run, he placed a bounty on the heads of all police officers, American citizens, and military personnel within Medellin. He paid $300 a head. For the poor folks of this Colombian town, the bounty was a god-send. Dozens of cops and officials were slaughtered and decapitated while Pablo was on the run.

It was easy to spot Pablo’s hideouts after he’d left them; they were all run-down houses with shiny new bathrooms. In 1993, Pablo Escobar made a cell phone call from an apartment building in Medellin. The Colombian secret police stormed the building and shot Escobar dead within moments. Dumb ass.

It was just as well. Coke was passé by 1993 anyway: the rest of the world had discovered E, a much more effective way of extracting blowjobs from drunk chicks in bathroom stalls.

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