Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Ass Pear La Plante

Many of us were thunderstruck by poetic inspiration after witnessing Friday’s Ass Pear La Plante.

Ass Pear La Plante calls to us. It asks us to step beyond the binaries of race, class and gender, beyond the categories of societal imposition, to consider spectral humanity. The ethereal. The philosophic. The play-doh funbaggery of ass peardom.

Flesh goblets of joy muscle.

Globes of hindquarter.

Bouncy jelly rolls.

They echo through the ages with the spring of youth. A soft, spongey firmness that rebuts the real world impositions of sag, despoiling and decay. Hidden in the dark crevasses between each cheek, we find hope. A future world of singing bluejays and dancing lute players. Rainbows and waterfalls, unicorns and talcum powder butt bongo grabby grab.

Therefore we must pause and appreciate the Ass Pear La Plante, sans douchebag.

For it shows us the way.