“If you can think beyond politics and voting, you have a chance at understanding what’s actually going on; but even then, everyday people will never know for sure.” – Dr. Freckles
The “CALIFORNIA DREAMING” video will be seen as naïve bright-siding utopian bullshit.
In the future …
Swamp masters, herding their hooker women, will lurk in the regions EAST of New York City. They will harvest sewage crab and live off of the snail greases and the lost virgin patties. It will be hard, but their names will be THROG and GRYG and TOOLLS … and they will be feared. In the future.
In the future …
The dancing nurses will be found, along with DB COOPER and the cause of the WTC-7 collapse … all found … all verified. Sure, you’ll use these secret papers to keep yourself warm, and you’ll burn the plastic coverings too … as you cower in your cave, on the run from the HIGLIN-CREW and the other droogs hanging near the Ivory Sands of Tyl … and still their hearts will be warn and yellow. In the future.
IN THE FUTURE …
The bullet will be gold and gold will be power. Heinous derby riders, shooting horses for taco meat, will be chased out of Florida and find refuge in the storm drains of Dallas. The underground world, covered in mold and slime, becomes their empire of madness and the LOST ONES are forgotten, as their bones turn to dust. In the future.
Way off in the future …
People will live on MARS … they’ll have fancy cars and martinis at bars … they will ski Olympus Mons, and hangout with ROBOT-ELON-MUSK – carbon unit Musk will be dead by then, died in a TESLA accident. Many will come to his funeral, dressed in steel and suede, wondering and wandering the cemetery, finding only reflections of their own monkey failure … in the future.
Really sexy, she’s gonna take it up the rear from Magic Mike.
There will be scenes of bondage and jerk-chicken and squab grease, rubbed all over the nads and the boovula. She’ll be wearing a strap on made of roughly hewn cedar and burlap and coarse rope. Her screen name is Deluxe Interior, and Magic Mike is just … you know … Magic Mike. There will be a scene, in the middle of the movie, when Matthew McConaughey comes struggling into the bedroom, wrestling a robot anaconda, and complaining about butt sores and Fukushima style “crabs”.
It’s supposed to be a big movie – Oscar winner …
Perhaps the crowning achievement of Salma’s career.
Matt’s character, “Dwayne Rebar”, has a kind of platonic dialogue with Salma about “vaginal dryness” and the “blue pill” – of course, the secret guest star is Taylor Swift. Taylor’s character is named “Cheese Ramen”, and she smells like cat pee and slaughtered pigs. Taylor and Matt go at it, after Matt’s character injects himself with concentrated ROD STIFFENER, but it’s too much and he almost has a stroke … while blowing his load in Taylor’s ass. Taylor quivers, as Matt looks stoically into the distance … towards the cabinet … where he stashed his coke.
It all goes south when Dwayne proposes a “California taco”, but Salma’s character is like “I’m in the mood for an ‘eskimo pie’ …”
At one point in the film, Sylvester Stallone shows up …
Sly plays “Drexler Harley”, the evil metal-style biker dude who owns all the flesh trade on Sunset Boulevard …
Drexler pulls Taylor off of Matt, while Salma allows both Matt and Magic Mike to perform a “west side style chili cook off”, which in Ohio is called a “double salamander bbq”.
It gets weird …
At about the 90-minute mark, when you think the film is almost over? – when stuff gets VERY HOT. Salma’s character lay on her bed, exhausted and covered in sweat and splizz; she’s taken too much, and needs a break – but Drexler convinces the others, to include Taylor, to set Salma up for a “Tennessee slide show”, a very dangerous maneuver for anyone over 50 (spoiler alert). Their bodies are stretched and contorted, Drexler lets out a hideous scream … Taylor’s character is covered in torg-pudding and bleecher wax … It all gets worse, as the orgiastic pyramid is slathered with whipped cream and raccoon spice; Kortan-Raiders arrive to shove cucumbers and zucchini up the butts of Magic Mike and Salma …
Salma is tied to the bed, and marbles are placed in her butthole. She writhes in agony, and pleasure, as Drexler declares himself “Train Engineer” and starts lining up the players, Taylor first, with her “double eagle butt scratcher” style strap on … and Salma moans, heroically, as her thighs tighten, and she bites her bottom lip.
Near the end of the movie, as the players put on their clothes and apply BEN GAY, Salma walks with dignity towards a sliding glass door; she opens the door and stands outside, looking at a nuclear reactor melting down, in the distance.
“We were the dark selves, our juices are raw”, she comments to Drexler – but Drexler is having a stroke, he smells toast …
Matt’s character is passed out on the bathroom floor, covered in vomit …
Taylor Swift is snorting meth and dancing nakedly near the coffee table …
