Pairs of Perky Boobs

The new year started out on a sad and piss poor note for the owners of one of the many vacuous fake islands for sale in the Arabian Gulf abutting the world’s most advanced virtual country, Dubai.

In a feat of somewhat impressive engineering, Dubai has managed to transform its wealth of native sand into several groups of barren islands anchored off its coast, some shaped like palm trees, some shaped like lollipops.  When viewed from the preferred point of view,  from Heaven, they are claimed to resemble an idyllic version of the rest of the poor world, defined in Dubai as that part of the world that does not benefit from Dubai’s strategic position in its salty, oily gulf of ocean water far enough away for Americans to ignore.

Buyers of exclusive empty islands,  however, appear to be in extremely short supply these days.   And therein lies the proverbial rub.  A decent sized shot of cash would be much appreciated by the local sellers in Dubai.   In fact, cash, as it turns out, is a requirement of ownership.  After that, anything goes.  You can rub and you can dub.  Dollars or Euros would do just fine, but none of the cheap imitations.  Fake will only take you so far.  The local sand, however, is guaranteed to be real.   Just touch it and you can feel the burn.  For point of reference Dubai is in some desert somewhere near Africa or Asia or one of those hell holes where it is hot as blazes all the time and is ruled with an open, unfurled fist by an emir who wears a long, silky robe covering short,  silky briefs, not boxers, and to whom bowing down in the sand is a requirement of a long and healthy local life.

On New Year’s Eve, sadly, the scheduled festive opening of the exclusively fake version of the real but not rich enough city of Monte Carlo was put off until further notice due to its unfortunate status of incompletion.   Frankly, the dump looked suspiciously like a pile of shit.  This was an unavoidable predicament caused by delays in importing sufficient numbers of slaves from Pakistan to perform the requisite real and not fake dirty work that underlies any undertaking of such a worthy magnitude.  Plus, it is a known fact proven by history that slaves work best for smart royals everywhere.

Besides such obvious advantages as securely locked gates and armed mercenaries patrolling for interlopers,  the prospective higher plane of reality offered on Dubai’s fake island of Monte Carlo will feature this ultimate cutting edge development:   an air-conditioned outdoors.

A leading spokesman for the mammoth undertaking, a photogenic Mr. Kleindienst from the famous Austrian family of Kleindiensts, no known relation to the American Mr. Kleindienst who was a high ranking lackey in the employ of the former Mr. Nixon during his unfortunate difficulties with the abrasive Jew lawyers who unfairly hounded him from his office way back when, declared that, “we will try again next year.”

This should become a concern for right thinking Americans for a number of clear reasons.  First, if not foremost, they are clearly trying in Dubai to steal our rightful American thunder in the category of costly and wasteful self-absorbed stunts in quasi-public municipalities that tend to stay put and never go away.

Yeah, right.  As if.

C’mon.  Air conditioning a desert?  Big fucking deal.  We’ve been there and done that.  Ever hear of Las Vegas, bozos?  Show some originality, for Allah’s sake.  You might respond, but oh, the streets of Las Vegas are not air-conditioned, nor the surrounding mountains either.  And yes, I would be forced to concede a point on that, perhaps two points, but no more. Enough is enough.  America has points in the bank that will never go away.  What about all the water we pump?  What about all the subsidized sugar, the subsidized corn?  Try to trump that with all your fucking sand in all your fucking Arabian deserts. You can’t.  That’s right.  You heard me.  Not you and all your humping camels.  No way, Mr. Who Do You Think You Are, Mr. Big Shot Dubai.  No way is some puny air-conditioning going to change any American minds that are already made up and are going to righteously stay that way.

Plus, Dubai has chosen to pick a commercial fight with our good neighbors, the Canadians, over some dumb ass landing rights for their silly jet airplanes, as if anyone really gives a shit either way how to get either way.  Again, clearly, if anything is clear, America must support its warring neighbors, first and foremost, over warring foreigners farther away.  Besides, Canadians who travel abroad frequently suffer embarrassment and potential trauma in denying that they are no more than fake Americans in disguise.  They should be backed to the hilt for no more reason than that.

Fortunately, no way is it going to take very much before Dubai cries uncle and goes squealing like some flank of forbidden pork back to its kitty litter dunes to take a dump, or dumps.  Dubai does not know what kind of ass kicking it is getting it’s slaves into.  Canadians are vicious.  You should see the blood flow when they play hockey.  Eyes get poked out with sticks.  They spit out teeth and laugh like hyenas.  Fighting with bare knuckles is not only permitted, it’s required.  I realize the slaves of Dubai also have to be somewhat tough to survive in the middle of nowhere but I’d like to see some surrogate of a sheik stand up to the kind of pounding a Canadian can dish out, especially on the ice, without a sword to chop off the hand of a dimwitted opponent slowed by the heat.

I think to show Dubai exactly where they still must stand in the grand and ultimate scheme of things that our own home grown Congressional dimwit from close to Canada, Michelle Bachman, who has pointed out fearlessly in that dumb U.S. Congress she has to put up with that carbon dioxide is a natural wonder, the more the better, should propose heating her district in northern Minnesota.

Now that’s what I would call some real virtual engineering. Perhaps Sarah Palin could have done it first if she was still the governor of Alaska but as Sarah Palin insightfully pointed out, and proved, who wants to be the governor of Alaska for long?

I think it must be those endless vistas of whiteness in our northerly climes that inspire the type of confidence in both of these dynamic women that requires as little information as possible.  The real truth is all right there in front of your face, dummies.  Besides, I think it is time to give Michelle Bachman her time to really shine in the glare.  She could partner with Disney and Sony and bring out the wow factor once and for all to eviscerate this hoax perpetrated upon right thinking Americans about this  so-called global warming.  In Minnesota, all you have to do is look outside to see all the snow. Maybe it’s not as much snow as Alaska but it’s still a lot of snow.  Sometimes there’s so much snow all you can see is white.  Plus Michelle Bachman has got the sex thing working for her, the MILF thing, the required perky boobs just like Sarah Palin, the tailored suits, and the wicked thing working too.  All in all, that’s irresistible. Think Nicole Kidman with a lacy push up bra under those sexy suits. Just like Sarah. I know Disney could pull it off easy.  Disney could build steam baths and whirlpools side by side with ice skating rinks and slalom courses.  I’m sure Michelle Bachman looks good enough in a bathing suit to pose, at least on par with the uplifting poses of Sarah Palin.

When the final score is tallied in the overall scheme of so-called natural things, engineering feats count extra.  This is reliably based upon the words of the one true God of the New Testament and a rigid fixation on the Constitution of the good old US of A,  both of which come with a bona fide certainty and no need for answers to questions that should never be asked.   Slipshod and scattered thoughts don’t count nearly as much as deeds that add up to something big.

Build it and they will come, that’s what I say.  Mountains of snow, moose to shoot, and a nice hot bath with accessory ice queens to lubricate the pores.  Boobs galore.  The hot air will rise and simply disappear.  Out of sight and out of mind.  I can just about guarantee it.  And while you’re at it, check out that Michelle Bachman chick up close.

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About marclevytoo

writer of fiction
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