celebrity – The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi

Anna Nicole Smith: The Nostalgic Naughty Knockout

To speak her name is to, regrettably, invoke a joke. Here’s a woman who leaves two lasting parallel legacies:

What pop culture remembers about her.
What adult men of a certain age fondly (and secretly) remember about her.

She was a woman who was both a tragic product of her time and, remarkably, ahead of her time as well. She didn’t quite fit in when she gained stardom in the 90s, found a niche career switch in the early 2000s, and met her untimely demise far too soon. Today, modern society remembers her for an eyebrow-raising marriage to an elderly oil tycoon. She was a “gold digger” before that term entered our lexicon. However, for millennial and Gen X men of a certain age, we might think of her in more amiable terms.

Who is this woman? Why, it’s Anna Nicole Smith!

Born as Vickie Lynn Hogan on November 28, 1967 in Houston, Texas, Anna should have been considered one of the ‘It Girls” of the 1990s, alongside Pamela Anderson, Cindy Crawford, Sharon Stone, and Carmen Electra. She certainly had the looks required to enter the “sex symbol” status, though she was never quite able to break into that coveted inner circle. For a variety of reasons, she was never invited to the “cool kid’s table,” despite possessing many of the same attributes of those who were allowed to sit there.

Very briefly, her career launched when she posed for Playboy magazine in May 1992. She would later go on to win Playmate of the Year in 1993. For you young kids reading this, posing nude for Playboy used to be one of the main gateways to earning the status of a model-celebrity. This was back before amateur models could go viral on Instagram or TikTok and sign with major brands as a result. For all his flaws as a human being, being in the good graces of Mr. Hugh Hefner did come with its perks.

Afterward, Anna replaced Claudia Schiffer (a superstar supermodel in her own right) in Guess Jeans’ black and white photography advertisement campaign. I remember distinctly seeing one of those photos on the web (back when dialup Internet was a thing) and thinking to myself, “Now THIS is what a woman is supposed to look like!” She made “mom jeans” a desirable thing before that term even existed.

Known for her uncanny resemblance to Jayne Mansfield, curvy figure, adorable Texas drawl, and fitting into the “dumb blonde” stereotype, Anna Nicole Smith defined an era. The centerfold model was a prized achievement for anyone who wished to break into the world of modeling, movies, television, or the “celebrity industrial complex” writ large. And for young men who grew up during an era when we hid certain magazines underneath our bed, we definitely knew who these women were. We “enjoyed” these ladies in our own personal way, often in the privacy of our bedroom after everyone in the house has fallen asleep. I don’t think I need to get more specific than that.

Looking back on Anna’s life and career, it’s easy to criticize her. It’s easy to point your finger at her and laugh or treat her as the butt of a joke. She never reached Pamela Anderson’s level of superstardom, but she probably was never going to. Her major Hollywood movie role was appearing in “Naked Gun 33+1⁄3: The Final Insult,” where she basically played eye candy. She was not a good actor (as evidenced by the Razzie Award she earned for “Worst New Star”). To be fair, neither is Pamela Anderson – who, ironically, also appeared in a “Naked Gun” movie – but at least Pam has enough charm and spunk to make her watchable on the silver screen. Anna, unfortunately, did not have the charisma necessary to make a career in Hollywood sustainable.

So fine. Anna’s greatest strength was her looks. She couldn’t act, sing, dance, or produce any art that people would want to open their wallets to buy. She was a blonde bombshell, nothing more, nothing less. Perhaps this is part of the reason why she wasn’t respected in her day. And, uh, for the other reason that should be mentioned.

Her controversial marriage to J. Howard Marshall.

Welp, there’s no use beating around the bush. Without getting into too much detail, Anna infamously married petroleum tycoon J. Howard Marshall on June 27, 1994. Marshall was 89 years old and Anna was…<checks notes> only 26. The mind-boggling 63-year age gap was jarring back then, even before our culture’s obsession with “age gap discourse” became a thing. It’s still bizarre to think about.

Now, did she marry him for love…or money? I certainly don’t want to speculate on the inner thoughts of someone I don’t know, but a reasonable person acting in good faith can definitely come to a particular conclusion. I won’t pass down any judgement on her, especially since she’s no longer around to defend herself. Let the dead rest in peace, I say. Here’s what I will put out there: If you were a young woman who found an easy and sure-fire way to gain nearly instantaneous generational fortune, would you pass up this opportunity?

Go ahead and tell yourself that you wouldn’t. But I’m humble enough to admit that if I were placed in her shoes, I’m not sure that I would have made a different choice. Do you have more integrity? Great. That’s fantastic. Good for you. Keep telling yourself that.

Anna’s controversial marriage and the legal fallout from it (culminating in not one but two different Supreme Court cases) for sure contributed to the lack of respect this woman has received from the public at large. It’s partially why very few people can utter her name without making a snarky comment or cracking a condescending smirk. Anna isn’t looked fondly upon like Marilyn Monroe, Pamela Anderson, or Farrah Fawcett. She had the physical looks to go toe-to-toe with these women, though not the cultural gravitas. As someone who actually watched two of her direct-to-video movies (1994’s “To the Limit” and 1996’s “Skyscraper,” respectively), I can say with 100% honesty that acting was not her specialty. She was a model after all; someone whose literal job was to stand around and look pretty. She did exactly that at an elite level, so props to her for that.

Anna was the stereotypical “dumb blonde” and truly leaned into that persona. She knew she had limitations as a celebrity (as did her agent, no doubt), so her “shelf life” would be limited. Now, did I watch in my parent’s basement at 2:00 in the morning “The Anna Nicole Show,” a reality TV show that aired from 2002 to 2004? Uh, perhaps. I saw a handful of episodes. I was never big into reality television, so I didn’t really have a whole lot of genuine interest in watching her show. But any Anna-related content that I could get was good enough for me. I had a major celebrity crush on her during my junior high school days. She, Pamela, Rena Mero (WWE’s Sable), Famke Janssen, and Halle Berry (who’s still one hot mama) had major strangleholds over me during my teen years. I can admit that I frequently jerked off to Anna in the privacy of my bedroom as an awkward teen. I distinctly remember looking at her Playboy photos on my mom’s old computer (which still had dialup Internet) and fantasizing about being able to bury my face in her enormous boobs. My imagination was quite limited in those days.

There was something about her that made me briefly obsessed with her. I’m pretty sure it was her curvaceous figure, which was in stark contrast to the 90’s to early 2000’s trend of supermodels being unhealthily skinny. The “skinny is beautiful” craze led to a major backlash, namely when conditions like anorexia and bulimia became household words. Before then, Anna’s “plus sized” body was also considered somewhat of a joke. She was “fat” in a way that set her apart from her modeling peers. Before the Body Positivity movement started, it was commonplace to look at Anna – despite her incredible natural beauty – and question whether or not she deserved her status as a celebrity model. By all accounts, she deserved it. However, the fact that she didn’t win everybody over is telling unto itself.

Looking back on it, my obsession with Anna probably led to my current obsession with female bodybuilders. Anna was no bodybuilder, of course. But like I just said, her body felt like a defiant statement against the current zeitgeist. She was a pretty blonde lady who liked to eat, married an old rich man, and lived a luxurious life that she only dreamt about as a little girl. Given how quickly she became a star, it’s no mystery why she made the choices that she made. She had opportunities presented before her that a regular person could only imagine in their wildest dreams. Do any of us really know how we would have reacted? Would we have truly made different choices than her? Who knows.

My love of Anna was brief. I was obsessed with her for probably a 2-3 year period. As I became an older teen, I moved on from her. Then, once I became an adult, I discovered the world of female bodybuilders. And the rest, as they say, is history. Anna was a distant memory of a time when I went through puberty and discovered beautiful women for the first time. Anna was one of my earliest celebrity crushes, but not my strongest. My present-day adoration of Cindy Landolt far surpasses how obsessed I was with any other famous lady. But I don’t want her to fade out of my memory. She still holds a special place in my heart, even all these years later. “Never forget your roots,” as they say.

You know what kind of person Anna was? Picture this hypothetical rom-com:

A young man who grew up in a small town in Texas graduates from college and gets a high-paying job at a law firm (or financial firm) in New York City. There, he parties with ridiculously hot “city gals” who look like Ana de Armas and Megan Fox in their primes. He gets drunk, parties at the most popular nightclubs, and even gets lucky enough to take home one or two of these gals for a nightcap.

Then, out of nowhere, there’s a tragedy back home. Grandma and grandpa are coming down on hard times and they’re forced to sell their farmhouse. Our protagonist flies home in an effort to secure emergency funding so that his grandparents can keep their beloved home. Perhaps his connections with Wall Street financiers could help. Dejected and feeling lonely, he goes to a local dive bar. It’s a popular place that he’s known about for years, but he was never old enough to go inside. Once in, he guzzles down a couple of beers and plays darts with a few “good old boys” who treat this bar like it’s their second home.

Suddenly, something catches his eye. Across the room, playing pool with her buddies, is a busty blonde hometown girl that he vaguely remembers from high school. Maybe she’s lost a little bit of weight since then. Or maybe the opposite: She’s “filled out” quite nicely. Regardless, he feels compelled to approach her. He does. He’s struck by her natural beauty, curvy figure, and rural small-town charm. He asks her for her name. She kindly replies, “Lizzy.”

Now, our protagonist is caught in a major dilemma: Does he return to the “Big City” and continue living the life of urban luxury? Or does he “come home” and settle down with Lizzy, who works at the local diner as a part-time waitress? And will grandma and grandpa be able to keep their farmhouse from falling into the hands of those darn greedy land developers? Oh, what wacky hijinks will ensue!

Ah ha.

In this hypothetical rom-com, you could easily imagine Anna playing the romantic lead. I’m not sure which 90s-era Hollywood actor would play the male co-star, but whatever. In an alternative universe, Anna’s niche would be appearing in made-for-cable-TV romance movies in the 90s and early 2000s, milking that success by appearing in reality shows during the 2010s, and spending the 2020s doing “special guest appearances” on various podcasts or YouTube channels. Maybe having a bit role in a streaming show here and there. But after her tragic death on February 8, 2007, none of this would ever come to pass. Her fate was sealed. So it goes.

So what’s the takeaway here? Well, I felt compelled to pay tribute to one of my childhood celebrity crushes. I also felt obligated to provide her with the respect she deserved and (oftentimes) did not receive when she was alive. I cannot defend every choice she made. I obviously did not know her. I don’t know anyone who knew her. Like any famous person, I only knew her from a distance. Perhaps she made regrettable life choices. Maybe she was a monster behind the scenes. It’s entirely possible she mistreated certain people. Who knows? I don’t feel the need to dig through every rumor about her. Let the dead be.

What I can say is this: Anna Nicole Smith was a woman who was a product of her time. She was blessed with immense beauty, which handed her opportunities that aren’t normally presented to people without it. She was given choices that are unimaginable to normal folks. She made those choices, whether you agreed with them or not. She lived with those choices, until she no longer had to. And that was that. It is what it is. Anna lived and died as an example of what the “American Dream” can be. She started with nothing, exploited her looks for personal gain, married rich, tasted the celebrity life for a brief time, milked her fame for as long as possible, and died of an accidental drug overdose. For the 39 years she walked on this Earth, she experienced things most of us could not comprehend.

Was she happy? I’m sure she was for part of it. I’m also certain she was unhappy for a lot of her life. Is it fair to judge her for her actions? Sure, why not. But like I said before, can you say with any degree of certainty that you wouldn’t have done the same?

Another thing I know is that Anna was a gift. Her beautiful face and beautiful body brought joy to many people, myself included. She wasn’t a gift that we deserved, but the gift that we got. As a teenage boy, she opened my eyes to a whole new world. I finally understood why adult men were obsessed with beautiful women. Why did men fight and die in wars over Helen of Troy? Discovering Anna Nicole Smith as an impressionable teen taught me why.

She was the type of woman that drove men mad. We may not have wanted to admit it, but it was true. Anna was a special lady.

May she rest in peace.

The Female Muscle Dark Web

Faceless hooded anonymous computer hacker — You’ve just entered the Matrix…er, the Dark Web!

Deep within the shadowy depths of the Internet, there exists a dark and mysterious space where few dare to tread. You may have heard of it, or perhaps you’re hearing about it for the first time. No matter what, you’re scared to acknowledge it. You’re frightened to visit it. You cannot wrap your mind around why it exists in the first place. Its very existence is a conundrum to you, a macabre riddle that cannot easily be solved.

To attempt to understand this enigmatic space is to dip your toes into a New World that you never knew existed. Even if you’ve already heard of it, there is nothing that can prepare your mind for what is to come. No one is ever “ready,” even those who claim to be. No one.

And once you discover this New World, your mind is changed forever. Your attitude is permanently adjusted. Your worldview flips upside down. Your paradigm doesn’t just shift; it shatters into a billion pieces and is unable to reform itself. You aren’t sure if you would ever want to go back, but that debate is now over. You’re past that threshold, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Resistance is futile. That’s for damn sure.

What type of Internet space am I referring to? Shouldn’t the answer be obvious by now?

Of course, I’m talk about…

…Bronies.

Grown men who adore “My Little Pony,” a Hasbro-developed entertainment franchise aimed at little girls. Apparently, there are adult men – at least, they claim to be adult men – who are into this sort of thing. Very into it.

Wait. That might not be right. Maybe I’m talking about furries? “Twilight” fan fiction? Uh, people who actually liked the Star Wars prequels?

Nah. That’s been done before. Nothing to see here. Move along now. Outside of activities that are clearly criminal, there aren’t a whole lot of fetishes, strange fandoms, and social perspectives that we, as a whole, won’t tolerate. Chalk that up to our “live and let live” attitude that, for the most part, still permeates throughout our society. You don’t need to “approve” or “understand” these subcultures to acknowledge that it’s fine that they exist as long as no one gets hurt.

Arguably, the very concept of “common culture” is starting to go by the wayside. Sure, there will always be things that unite us as a culture – at least temporarily. The Super Bowl, the release of a new Marvel movie, and catchy pop songs are a few examples (this, despite the fact that sports is becoming increasingly more politicized in the wake of high profile protests during the singing of the American national anthem). However, what’s becoming a more significant facet of modern life is the growing acceptance of subcultures as acceptable off-shoots of our main culture.

Dark web - Angela Salvagno — Angela Salvagno chatting with her fans through webcam.

For example, once upon a time ago drag culture was an underground subculture that existed out of sight and out of mind for the majority of us. Today, it’s still not quite a “mainstream” culture (properly understood), but it lives just outside that bubble. Or, it lives tangentially within mainstream culture. Or on the fringes of our main culture. Or, drag performers like RuPaul have one foot inside main culture and the other food inside the drag subculture. RuPaul’s popular TV show certainly contributed to the evolution of drag going from “out of sight, out of mind” to “not quite out of sight, not quite out of mind.”

Female bodybuilding fandom, on the other hand, is still considered an underground subculture. While going to a strip bar or smoking weed are still fairly taboo activities, they’re not as taboo as they once were. You don’t need to “approve” of what goes on inside a strip club, but you can accept it existing right next to your favorite nail salon. You don’t need to like the smell of marijuana at a public park, but that won’t stop you from walking your dog along his or her favorite dirt path. Just try to avoid the odor if you must.

Yet, engaging in a muscle worship session with a female bodybuilder is not like going to a nudie bar or getting high while watching reruns of All in the Family. It’s not a very well-known activity. In our mainstream culture, female bodybuilders are nowhere close to being within an ear shot. Thus, for those of us who love FBBs, the Internet is the only place where we can enjoy our mutual love for them.

Is there such a thing as the “Female Muscle Dark Web?” Eh, sort of. But not really.

There are popular websites like HDphysiques.com, saradas.org, sexymusclegirls.com, wb270.com, areaorion.blogspot.com, and sessiongirls.com. Heck, a small number of you might consider my humble blog to be among them. I’m also a fan of Female Muscle Slave. He’s an incredible blogger who is keenly tuned-in to the competitive side of the industry in addition to the fandom side of the industry. Check him out if you haven’t already.

So are there popular female muscle-themed websites where fans gather to congregate? Sure. Does that qualify as a “Dark Web?” Meh, probably not.

Hold on. Before we proceed any further, let’s try to define what the “Dark Web” actually means.

The terms “Dark Web” and “Deep Web” sometimes get used interchangeably. This shouldn’t be the case. Technically speaking, the “Deep Web” is a portion of the Internet that exists below the Surface Web. The Surface Web are things like Amazon.com, Facebook.com, Twitter.com, NFL.com, ESPN.com, StarWars.com, Reddit.com, and any other “normal” website you come across every day. These websites – and countless others that aren’t as popular – are indexed by Google and other search engines for easy access. The idea of the “Surface Web” doesn’t need too much explaining.

However, beneath the Surface Web exists a whole host of websites that aren’t indexed by these search tools. The concept of the Deep Web includes all the websites that are intentionally (or unintentionally) hidden from traditional search applications. Most of them are beta sites or old websites that have gone out of commission. Most of it is useless junk. Most of it is boring.

Dark web - Callie Bundy — Callie Bundy has become sort of a mini Internet “celebrity” due to her Instagram page.

Some of it can be exciting. Or useful. Journalists and human rights activists who live in repressive regimes use channels like Tor that are outside of the Surface Web to network with peers in other countries. How do you think we’re aware of the diabolical starvation methods employed by the Kim regime in North Korea or the anti-theocratic movement in Iran?

That being said, there’s a portion of the Deep Web that is a bit more, uh, scandalous. This includes websites where you can sell and purchase illegal guns, stolen credit cards, drugs (both narcotics and prescription medication), child pornography (and other kinds of illegal pornography), leads to hired assassins, and anything else you can think of that you can’t exactly find at your local Target.

This is what is meant by the Dark Web. Dark, scary, frightening, unethical, illegal, and potentially deadly. Terrorist organizations like ISIS and al-Qaeda communicate with each other through Dark Web channels. So do Neo-Nazis, white supremacists, and other extremist groups that are under FBI surveillance.

Not exactly the type of stuff that you want your Grandma to know you’re into.

To be clear, female muscle fandom exists solely on the Surface Web. I highly doubt much of it exists below that. And if any of it does, it’s probably there for a reason. By and large, female muscle fandom can be found through a simple Google search. No need to go further than that. Thanks to Instagram, our access to our favorite FBBs, fitness models, and weightlifting enthusiasts is more open than ever before. Thanks to video curating sites, I can watch endless footage of Denise Masino playing with her clit without having to put on my detective hat. Of course, such videos shouldn’t be viewed during work hours or on your office computer.

Yet, FBB fandom remains an Internet subculture. An Internet subculture that can be found on the Surface Web. So while the so-called “Female Muscle Dark Web” isn’t really a thing, we can use it euphemistically to describe the forums where this subculture is alive and well.

Dark web - Lindsay Mulinazzi — Not following Lindsay Mulinazzi on Instagram? Shame on you!

In many ways, the Internet is the only substantial place where female muscle fandom can happen. Not too many of us get to attend bodybuilding shows. Only a small number of us have the expenses, inclination, and opportunity to meet an FBB for a muscle worship or fantasy wrestling session. So when it comes to experiencing these beautiful women, our computer screen and smartphone are really the only avenues in which we can do that. I can easily go to my local shopping mall and purchase a brand new Star Trek shirt. I cannot easily go to that same mall and find any paraphernalia affiliated with female bodybuilders.

This is why many FBBs utilize social media as much as they can. It’s their best way to connect with their fans. Or to put it another way, it’s the only way they can regularly connect with their fans. Many FBBs offer webcam appointments, AMA chats (“ask me anything”), and members-only content through their personal websites. This is a classic example of meeting your clients where they’re at. Why break your back working a traditional 9-5 job when you can easily make $100 per hour just chatting with a bunch of strangers from the comfort of your living room?

The Female Muscle Industrial Complex – a term that apparently I just coined – is a niche market with a fairly undefined consumer base. In any given city, town, or municipality, you could have 200 female muscle fans, 2,000 female muscle fans, or 20,000 female muscle fans. You don’t know exactly. But it doesn’t matter where they are geographically. It doesn’t even matter what language they speak. The only thing that does matter is whether or not they have Internet access and enough privacy to feel “safe” to experience their love of muscular women. That’s it, practically speaking.

The Female Muscle Dark Web isn’t dark, nor is it just confined to the web. But it is a real space full of real people who share a mutual interest in women with lots of muscle. And this space hasn’t been driven underground by some prudish cabal of anti-FBB misogynists. In fact, it’s always been underground. Or rather, not within the mainstream. Just because something isn’t considered “mainstream” doesn’t mean there’s some massive conspiracy to ensure it remains outside of the mainstream. Some things just don’t pick up steam. Some things are just destined to stay put where they are.

This isn’t a tragedy by any stretch of the imagination. Muscular women will always be here, regardless if mainstream bodybuilding organizations want them included or not. As long as there are women who desire to become a better version of their current selves, female bodybuilders will always be with us. As long as there are women who believe being “strong” and “independent” means being something beyond a simple corporatized rallying cry, FBBs will never die out. The demise of female bodybuilding has been greatly exaggerated. I don’t see any evidence of that happening anytime soon.

Dark web - Goddess Severa — The 6’5″ Goddess Severa is a fan favorite of female muscle/dominance enthusiasts.

Long story short, FBBs and fans of FBBs cannot wait for legacy media outlets to give them their due. It just won’t happen. Sports Illustrated or ESPN aren’t going to cover female bodybuilders (or male bodybuilders, for that matter) like they do basketball or football stars. Those athletes enjoy a powerful perch that doesn’t appear to be eroding. To expect FBBs to ever be mentioned in the same breath as Kevin Durant, Serena Williams, or Julio Jones is folly.

So the obscure and not-so-sinister parts of the web are where FBBs are allowed to shine. And fans don’t seem to mind all that much. Some of us may hope and pray for a day when FBBs can enjoy mainstream status as any normal celebrity would, but most of us aren’t holding our breaths. And the good new is that we don’t need to.

Our access to our favorite athletes is as open and easy as it’s ever been. Just because you don’t feel comfortable talking about Alina Popa’s glutes or Theresa Ivancik’s pecs openly at Thanksgiving dinner doesn’t mean you have a reason to feel ashamed or embarrassed that you are secretly into that sort of thing. On the contrary, you have nothing to worry about. You can be into muscular women without having to tell a single soul about it. That should feel liberating. But if you do want to tell somebody about it, you know where to look. And that can also feel liberating.

Your female muscle community is just a few clicks away. Like it or love it, you can choose to engage in this community, or you can choose to ignore them and keep your interests to yourself.

Either way, it’s your choice. And that’s truly liberating.

Muscle Note: A Shinigami’s Greatest Gift to Mankind?

A Muscle Note. Whose names would you write in it?

“Hear this: I’m not only Kira, but I’m also God of the new world!”

Or so proclaims Light Yagami, the protagonist of the manga (and later anime) series “Death Note.” With the release of the American film version on Netflix happening not too long ago, it seems only appropriate to discuss a Death Note-inspired fantasy that every female muscle fan would love to see enacted in real life.

What if there existed a Muscle Note?

For those of you who need further background information, Death Note is a popular Japanese manga (or graphic novel) series written by Tsugumi Ohba and illustrated by Takeshi Obata. It was released between December 2003 and May 2006. The animated television series followed from October 2006 to June 2007. Shortly afterward it was dubbed into English and released in North America.

The plot is simple yet ingenious: From the realm of the spirit world, a Shinigami (or a God of Death) named Ryuk drops into the human world a black notebook known as a Death Note. The human who discovers this paranormal tool is named Light Yagami, an intelligent, popular, handsome, and – for the most part – normal high school student. The basic function of the Death Note is easy to understand: If you write the name of any person in the notebook, he or she will die. There are plenty of other finely tuned rules attached to it, but that’s pretty much all you need to know for now.

Eventually, Light tests it out and discovers that the notebook is no joke. It’s real. Its powers are genuine. Then, he gets the idea of killing off criminals who are either crowding the prison system or just simply deserve to die. Light imagines how much more “just” and peaceful the world could be if criminals could easily be “erased” with the literal stroke of a pen. The criminal justice system is too slow, corrupt, bureaucratic, and flawed to serve justice effectively. Fancying himself as the judge, jury, and executioner all in one, Light exhibits delusions of grandeur as he proudly proclaims that he will be the “God of the new world.”

If you are not already into Japanese anime, do not let that stop you from watching this epic 37-episode long TV series. It’s a compelling watch. You could actually waste an entire weekend binge watching it if you’re not careful. And odds are, you won’t regret it. I highly recommend it for everyone out there, even those of you who don’t normally like Asian animation shows. There are a few moments that unfortunately cross over into “immature” territory, but for the most part the series is intelligently written, briskly paced, and a joy to behold.

What if you could transform Gal Gadot into Aspen Rae?

But let’s spin this in a different direction. As alluded to earlier, what if instead of a Death Note, you stumbled upon by happenstance a Muscle Note? The functionality is essentially the same, except for one significant difference: By writing a person’s name in the notebook, you magically transform their bodies to become as muscular as you desire (within a certain limit).

Here are the rules of the Muscle Note:

The human whose name is written in this note shall experience enhanced muscular growth.
This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person’s face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.
A number on a scale of 1 to 10 must be written next to the name to indicate the level of muscular growth that will occur. Failure to write a number will result in no change in his/her physical appearance. 1 means minimal muscle growth and 10 means maximum growth. Writing a number larger than 10 will not result in any additional growth beyond the threshold of 10.
The muscular growth will happen within 40 seconds of the name being written.
Muscle atrophy will result if the human does not take measures to maintain his/her muscle structure. Therefore, the enhanced muscle growth is not permanent.
The human whose name is written must be between the ages of 18 and 70. If he/she is older or younger than these parameters, no change in physical appearance shall occur.
If the paper on which the human’s name is written is burned, his/her body shall return back to its original state. Erasing the name is not sufficient.
The human who possesses the Muscle Note cannot use it for their own body.
The same human’s name can be written multiple times if the paper on which his/her name was previously written on is properly burned. Writing a different number will result in that human’s body adjusting accordingly.
No more than three humans can possess the Muscle Note at a time.
No human can lose possession of the Muscle Note unless a Kratos decides to take it away from him/her. A human can request to have the Muscle Note taken away from him/her. A Kratos is under no obligation to honor this request.
Humans who suffer from debilitating diseases or chronic physical disabilities and have their name written in the Muscle Note will not experience better health, only enhanced muscular development.

There are probably additional rules, but that’s enough for now. Also, just for your reference, a “Kratos” is named after the Greek god of strength, might, power, and sovereign rule. A Shinigami is a Japanese god of death, so it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense for them to be distributing Muscle Notes to the human world. So there’s that.

So imagine you encounter such a notebook. Let’s say the Kratos who decides to drop it on your lap is named “Ryanuk.” He seems friendly enough. Sure, a bit frightening in appearance, but once you get used to him it becomes no big deal. Ryanuk unexpectedly visits you in your bedroom one fateful evening. He carefully introduces himself and explains the rules in detail. Nothing is left up to ambiguity. You thank him for this unrequested gift.

Alright. So now what?

Odds are, since you are unable to use it on yourself (sorry!) you have to use it on somebody else. Where do you begin? Do you “test” it out on somebody first, such as your best friend or a random classmate/officemate? Or do you dive in head-first and go for jugular by writing the name of a young lady you’ve had your eye on?

Oh, the possibilities! Perhaps that’s why the story of Death Note is so compelling. Not only are we watching Light Yagami make these sorts of decisions on the fly, we are also making them for ourselves. What would we do if we were in his shoes? How would we react if unforeseen stumbling blocks like the enigmatic detective “L” or an infatuated fan-girl like Misa Amane with the Shinigami Eyes were to hinder us from properly executing our larger plans? Could we evade capture for as long as he did, especially considering his own father is a police chief? The suspense built up by the plot has more to do with these endless “what if questions” versus presenting a series of boring and pointless action scenes.

Possessing a Muscle Note would present different questions, but equally intriguing questions – especially if you are a female muscle fan. The first question you’d be asking yourself would be:

“Who?”

Who would you choose to magically transform into a bodybuilder? Maybe you write the name of a girl you have a crush on. Or perhaps a famous celebrity like Gal Gadot or Ariana Grande. Or, of course, your best buddy who goes to the gym five days a week but still can’t get gains to save his life (he’s clearly not consuming enough protein). Regardless, you cannot use it on yourself. Sorry. Ryanuk does have his limits. Selfishness is not a virtue he shares.

Ryanuk also values realism. The peak muscularity a person can reach is that of a Mr. or Ms. Olympia (R.I.P.) competitor. He’s not a fan of “female muscle growth” fiction, so fantasies of transforming a person into a superhuman muscle freak with as much bulging flesh as the Michelin Man is not going to become a reality. So, writing a person’s name and the number “10” after it will result in him or her becoming really muscular, but not unreasonably so. If you were expecting anything more than that, you will be sadly disappointed.

A person who loves muscular women will no doubt feel giddy being in possession of such a supernatural tool. One can only imagine how he or she would utilize it. No doubt many of you have already fantasized about possessing such powers (although not necessarily in the form of a physical Muscle Note). It’s hard to not ponder such things when the supply of muscular women is as rare as a solar eclipse (when statistically compared to the entirety of humankind, that is).

Therefore, the candidates whose names would be written down in this notebook would probably include the following:

Real life crushes
Celebrities
Best friends
Athletes on your favorite teams
Enemies whom you would like to play tricks on
Complete strangers who would look more attractive with enhanced muscle mass

The list can probably go on from here, but you get the point. One does not simply possess a Muscle Note and not take full advantage of it. Especially when you might actually be doing some people a favor by using it. This is your opportunity to become a genuine humanitarian. Did that thought ever occur to you? Well, now it has.

Here’s what your first page of names might look like:

Katy Perry 7
Megan Fox 10
<Cute girl who works at Starbucks> 4
<Your wife/girlfriend> 3 (hey, you want her to look good, but not better than you!)
Nicki Minaj 9
Kim Kardashian 10
<Your favorite basketball player who could grab more rebounds if he were a bit stronger> 6
<Superstar athlete who plays for your hated rival> 1
<Idiot jock who bullies you at school> 1
Pamela Anderson 8 (for those of you who grew up in the 90s)
Scarlett Johansson 5
Gal Gadot 8
<Your boss whom you hate with a passion> 10 (just to see him/her freak out!)
<Your best buddy> 4
<That hot chick who jogs around your neighborhood> 9
Donald Trump 1

You delight after reviewing this list. Then you look at your watch for 40 seconds to pass. Then you check Twitter 10 minutes later to see who’s freaking out. And then you relish the fact you’re causing so much havoc on a global scale without standing up out of your chair.

Right, right. This is all fine and dandy. All of that being said, the second question you might ask yourself is this:

“Should I?”

Obviously, the taking of somebody’s life without their permission is an act of moral reprehension. We call it “murder” and it’s highly illegal for a reason. While making someone’s body more muscular isn’t nearly as morally repulsive as murdering them, there are still ethical considerations to be had.

Basically, is it ever right to do something to a person without their permission, no matter how trivial or “beneficial” it might be? Becoming stronger is almost always a benefit, but that’s irrelevant when we consider the question of personal sovereignty. Using the Muscle Note would be a violation of personal sovereignty, even though many of us dream of looking like Arnold Schwarzenegger in the 1970s. Think about how many 20-year-olds who dream of playing in the NFL or MLB or UFC could actually get there if someone (strategically) used the Muscle Note on their bodies. Obviously, one should not use it in drastic fashion – such as transforming someone with a “3” body into a “10” overnight – that could arouse suspicion. That would blow your cover and expose the existence of either a Muscle Note or a miracle drug that somehow snuck into the open market.

These folks are not who we’re talking about. Rather, we’re talking about a gorgeous supermodel who wakes up one morning and finds her physique transformed into Aleesha Young without her permission. That might bring joy to many of us, but that would bring feelings of horror to her. You don’t need to be the world’s most empathetic person to know that’s probably a bit unethical.

But let’s face it. Being the owner of a Muscle Note isn’t about ethics, philosophical values, or vague notions of empathy, compassion, or integrity. Instead, it’s about making your wildest dreams come true with the innocuous stroke of a pen. A Muscle Note is the greatest gift to mankind because it can be used to improve people’s lives, not end it. Yet, one cannot help but think about the grave ramifications of using it on a large scale. Could it instigate a worldwide panic much like Kira did in Death Note? Perhaps. Or it could go unnoticed if it’s used modestly.

Yet, wouldn’t this sort of “cheapen” what it would mean to become a muscular person? Bodybuilders, both men and women, earn their impressive physiques through hard labor, perseverance, strategic planning, forethought, and mental toughness. If you could magically transform someone into a bodybuilder in less than a minute, wouldn’t that person lack a certain level of intrigue?

Many of us love female bodybuilders partly because we are turned on by how difficult it is to be one. Those of us who have participated in a muscle worship or wrestling session with a muscular woman deeply appreciate the blood, sweat, and tears that must have been shed during her journey of achieving such muscularity. We love them not only because their bodies are beautiful; but also because we respect what they’ve chosen to do with their lives. They’ve elected to lead an unorthodox life in pursuit of a physical aesthetic that is not only untraditional but supremely difficult to reach.

One cannot rest on their laurels and still be a bodybuilder. Muscles eventually recede if they are not probably maintained. Thus, being a bodybuilder is like climbing a mountain that has no summit. Even when you reach the top, you still have to labor in order to stay at the top. It’s like reaching the peak of Mount Everest and still having to work in order to stay there. You can’t stop to smell the roses. If you do, you will start to slip further and further downhill. What a cruel thing the human body can be at times.

Or Scarlett Johansson into Shannon Courtney?

But a Muscle Note is one way of bypassing all those scientific rules. With a Muscle Note at your disposal, you can reach the top of Mount Everest and stay there for as long as you want without lifting a finger. Seriously. Just keep that pen handy at all times. That’s all it takes.

Yes, that does cheapen what it means to be hypermuscular. But if we’re just using it for fetishistic ends, the philosophical/ethical considerations are a moot point. If you want your girlfriend to look like Minna Pajulahti for one night only, you can do that by writing her name in the Muscle Note and burning it after you’re done “playing” with her in her temporary costume. So on a crude level a Muscle Note only exists to fulfill our primal sexual fantasies. Oh great. Nothing more, nothing less.

But isn’t that the point of Death Note to begin with? Human beings cannot be trusted with supernatural powers because inevitably people will use it for destructive means, even if their intentions are good and noble at the beginning. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, as the old saying goes. No person should ever have that much power because no person will ever know how to control it. Eventually, power will control you. History has taught us that lesson repeatedly. The real tragedy is that we fail to learn it.

Perhaps this means a Muscle Note is not actually the greatest gift to mankind from the spirit world. No matter how “innocent” our fantasies might originally be, one can never anticipate which road our behavior will go. Will we choose the honorable path, or will we be completely consumed by our own greed and carnal desires that we abuse our powers to the detriment of others?

We can promise that we’d use the Muscle Note to help people like victims of polio, aspiring athletes who come from poor families that could earn riches beyond their wildest dreams, insecure people who could gain considerable self-esteem, and all sorts of individuals suffering from debilitating diseases. Yet, we all know how supernatural powers are usually put to use: to punish people we don’t like or to indulge in our own greediness.

You can guess which path most of us would probably take. Be honest with yourself. You know you’d go crazy and use it for purely selfish means.

And that would be wrong. Yet unquestionably enthralling. And arousing. Oh, the possibilities…

Humans are so interesting, indeed.