Sunday, December 04, 2005

What Do You Want On Your Tombstone?

I didn't forget about this, it just got sidetracked in the rubble of the week's dead-ends and Hi-Theres! dropped from B-29s flying over the labor camps of my soul. So. Without further ado, tis my toast to the Knockinest of Knockers, the Jewels of the Snarky Nile, Holly's Titties.

What's Past is Prologue

Recent developments have made it possible for me to extoll the virtues of the great rocks of Anderson, without any need to worry about impropriety. Was true always that these motzah balls would spin the dreidel of any Jewish liberal-Media-Hollywood elites, and true, the test of time will show it, and she'll use it to her advantage.

Will she use her cream puffs to sleep her way to the top? It's for her to decide, for what her angel cakes bestow upon us is majesty, from brook to brook, creek to creek, from Steak'N'Slash to hideous squid-puppet induced nightmares of sycophants laid low by a knock from her artichokes.

Those babylons could sink Babylon, her saline bags halt the approach of those too meager to match words over a bowl of soup, and true, in that case, her dynamic duo marked our territory.

Wicked, trixy, false, her frontal female water wings are a testament to natural sculpture. Truly, forsooth, there must be divine inspiration if such hottentots were thus made hotter. What's this hottentot got that we ain't got? Epic tits. May the world watch with wonder at the dead heat in a zeppelin race that is her rack. Mazel Tov.

P.S. Holly's tits are huge and Real.

Used as Reference: Joe Bobb Briggs's Exhaustive Boob Synonym List