Atlas Jugged
Seen the gal with the Atlas Shrugged tat where grunting Ataboy's globe is her globe? A mammary not soon expunged, though unless you're libidinally-ideationally fifteen - at whatever age - and thus hot both above and below the larger, I hope, of your two necks for the Objectivist answer to the tramp stamp, it's in no sense a memory upgrade, i.e., your hard drive is guaranteed not to expand. Points for tastefully, as things go in these precincts, leaving the mountain-capped North Pole of her well-mothered earth discreetly greenhoused by the right hand of her natural law.
On Wed, Jul 11, 2012 at 3:44 PM, someone wrote:
but Hank "rear"den wouldn't see it, would he?
That's one thing capitalism's good at, as everyone from Marx at the foundation on up the Schumperstructure have noted - opening up all forms, after all, of niche, or its sinonym, crack, marketing.
So some enterprising tattooist Randlord, seeing the treasure in fangirl chest, already, takes his cue from the snacks business, which has with no small amount of puffery both physical and verbal, correctly discerned the bottomless and large-bottomed appetite for the infinitude of forms into which wheat flour, corn meal and dried potatoes may be pressed,*
*Or the sometimes "Mexican" food business, which, one comedian noted in imitating a waitress explaining the menu, self-thesaurises a dozen dishes all built from: a tortilla, ground beef, tomato, cheese, and lettuce.
and branches out in needling the Ayn-inclinin' Right music of the spheres onto paying booties, shoulders, fists, testicles, glans penii, big toes - anywhere, in fact, an even marginally passable simulacrum of the globular might be assayed.
Seeing himself so diversely taxed in tatting, soon Atlas will be heard to cry, "I shoulda dropped the damned thing already...wasn't the good old medicine ball from gymnasium enough for me?"
The tag on the URL reads "rand-boob", one of the more extreme instances of nominative supererogation in such parts in quite a while.
On Wed, Jul 11, 2012 at 3:44 PM, someone
but Hank "rear"den wouldn't see it, would he?
That's one thing capitalism's good at, as everyone from Marx at the foundation on up the Schumperstructure have noted - opening up all forms, after all, of niche, or its sinonym, crack, marketing.
So some enterprising tattooist Randlord, seeing the treasure in fangirl chest, already, takes his cue from the snacks business, which has with no small amount of puffery both physical and verbal, correctly discerned the bottomless and large-bottomed appetite for the infinitude of forms into which wheat flour, corn meal and dried potatoes may be pressed,*
*Or the sometimes "Mexican" food business, which, one comedian noted in imitating a waitress explaining the menu, self-thesaurises a dozen dishes all built from: a tortilla, ground beef, tomato, cheese, and lettuce.
and branches out in needling the Ayn-inclinin' Right music of the spheres onto paying booties, shoulders, fists, testicles, glans penii, big toes - anywhere, in fact, an even marginally passable simulacrum of the globular might be assayed.
Seeing himself so diversely taxed in tatting, soon Atlas will be heard to cry, "I shoulda dropped the damned thing already...wasn't the good old medicine ball from gymnasium enough for me?"
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