He was handsome, a banker type, touch of

He was handsome, a banker type, touch of grey at the temples, just my type. We made eye contact and I smiled. He fletched his teeth. Ughh braces, with food particles. My fetish

for antagonistic cigars and grey temple hair would not overcome the disgust I had with his braces. When did J. Jonah Jameson get braces? Bits of tobacco were wedged in the

wires and brackets. J. Jonah Jameson didn't need his braces taken off to see evidence of his poor brushing, it was evident every time he grinned his awful wrinkled grin. His teeth

looked like the shadows of Nagel backgrounds that you used to see all the time in people's bedrooms when you were there for cocaine or sex or both. J. Jonah Jameson pretended forge

heart's content, but very soon the police came knocking down his door. "What is the meaning of this?" Jameson the embezzler asked, feigning innocence. "You got a solid gold toilet

installed last week & you claim to be a dollar-store cashier,” said the cop. “How did you afford a gold toilet?” “Saving,” replied Jameson. The cop wasn’t buying it. “You’re under

your credit limit even with the golden toilet. How do I get a job like yours?" Jameson told the cop he'd need to apply online if he was ready to take the plunge

deep into the scatalogical world of golden toilets. Jameson was never really a good unemployment officer, matchmaking the unemployed to the available jobs, but the former cop took

The golden lav and vowed to "Flush Out Unemployment." which he did, one welfare recipient at a time. The swirly epidemic bred a tsunami of outrage, and everybody killed themselves.