“It is illegal to get a boner at the White House without a valid voter registration card,” one of the policemen barks.

Adding insult to injury, the president gives a televised State of the Union speech later that night and spends most of the time talking about how desperate he is for sexual release. “Please vacate the premises.” The guard is powerless to your charms.

He tears off his clothes and pulls you into his small, cramped security booth.

You start thrashing futilely at the strings, making noises that in no way resemble Santana’s dynamic 1999 chart-topper. You pull open your waistband and start flapping your penis left and right against your thighs in hopes that it will get strong for sex.

But moments later, a team of the president’s athletic policemen tackle you to the ground, spoiling all the boner progress you’d made.

But before you quit the lifestyle, you want one last fuck.

And not just any fuck, but a fuck that cements your legacy as the greatest whoopee scoundrel to ever fuck. You want to fuck the president of the United States of America.

Watches have long served as a way for turd-men with too much money and not much to say to trumpet their existence to the world, but they've never featured Siri or the option to check your i Messages. Apple, innovating since day one, has found a way to make a chunk of ornamental gold on your wrist even more showy: throw in an LCD screen and wifi. For so long as the watch is in the possession of an individual, said person will be considered ineligible for coitus.

Should the Apple Watch be sold, lost, or removed from the arm via machete, the former owner will be deemed Fuckable once more.

Here you are at the White House, the old motel where the president and his family are imprisoned. Presidents need gavels to vote on laws and hammer their papers, so it makes sense that one would be getting delivered to the White House. You run towards the door as fast as you can, joining your hands over your head in a triangle shape to slice through the air and minimize wind resistance.

It is harder to sneak into than a movie theater, so you’ll need to be clever to get through the front doors and inside the president’s asshole. And even if they try to argue that the president already has a gavel, you can just say, “But does he have a premium gavel? After belligerently screaming in a manner that’s threatening to the president for the second time, a security detail rushes over and subdues you. But suddenly, a big doofus with a gun steps in front of you.

You’re a pickup artist, and a damn good one at that.