The sound of Elvis' voice has the ability to actually impregnate women, and which will only produce male offspring (he learned his lesson with Lisa Marie, and will never attempt to replicate himself in such an unworthy female vessel again, after having to clean up her biggest guffaw by actually willing Michael Jackson's death from beyond the grave, and in retaliation for their sham of a marriage).
These male descendants will be born as full-fledged 27th degree black belts, flawless hair, and each carrying two gold records, a satchel of panties and scarves, and the keys to a cherry '57 Chevy bellowing a stack of their daddy's illustrious masterworks.
The resulting placenta and afterbirth will be used in the same way that it has for decades - to produce Coca-Cola, power the Internet, as anti-venom for all poisonous creatures, to cure polio, as the essential ingredient in Febreeze, Chanel No. 5, Brut cologne and reactor coolant and as an impenetrable dragon repellant (when's the last time you saw one of them buzz overhead? Never? You're welcome.). Finally, they will possess the ability to bestow a complete menu of over 10,000 sandwich-related delicacies onto the frontal lobes of any woman within 300 yards, because damn, even they'll need something to eat, eventually - and while sucking the blood from the decapitated bodies of Beatles fans is the peak of fun, it's not very sustaining. Well, that, and it's widely presumed that they would have the distinct flavor of a flaccid phallus.
But Sinatra had blue eyes and knew members of the mafioso, so he's got those things in his favor. Give credit where it's due, I always say.
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