Merry Boobmas...

Merry Boobmas...

Well, I guess in order to really get you in the Christmas mood, here's this really creepy sexual thing which regulates women



that creates nameless half-naked women, defined only by their bodies and identified by the size of their breasts, lying supine and nearly motionless, occasionally shifting positions and jerking to punctuate a single noise...

Welcome to the wonderful world of post-feminsim, people. We're through the looking glass. I think I now realize what the feminist were talking about when they referenced "advertisements for rape" back in the day.

But hey, at least you can seize the means of production and you can make your own songs. How about that. Merry X-rated Christmas!

Some people with very little imagination just recreated it in the create-your-own-machine.



Which seems like sort of a waste. I mean, if you're going to play along, you might as well play something like Chopsticks or that song from Big. Now that would be entertaining to watch as well as very nostalgic.

But I have to say, finally the self-referential spiral of ironically-but-unironically-back-to ironically has collapsed in on itself, forming a singing tit-xylophone going "oo". At the very least it didn't hurt itself as it toppled over on its own weight. Well, everyone except the A-cup. No support there.

Then again, for those you can just get yourself a double wonder bra...