Someone wrote a blog on the Huffington Post saying that they had seen quite enough of Katy Perry’s breasts lately. Whoa, whoa, whoa . . . whoa . . . whoa. That is blasphemy. Let’s back this male sexist pig train up, switch tracks and take the lacey black line to Boobville, Breast Town, Hooter Junction and Cucamonga!
I don’t find Perry all that attractive as a whole and her music is unlistenable, but she has a rack that is, in a word, inspirational. Just thinking about them . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Huh? What? Oh, right. I don’t think the world has seen enough of Katy’s best assets. I think they deserve their own show on MTV or VH1, you know, one of the networks that already show nothing but garbage.
Here are some ideas:
1) Give the twins names like Freebie and the Bean and make them private detectives with Aaron Sorkin penning snappy dialog for them.
2) Make a cartoon calling them the Scooby Snacks where they solve mysteries with Shaggy, Scoob and Velma.
3) You could call them Cagney and Lacey in a remake of the 80s police drama and get Steven Boccho to produce.
4) J.J. Abrams hasn’t written a series in the last 5 minutes so name Katy’s breasts Kirk and Spock for Star Trek: Space Station 38D
These were just off the top of my head; I’m sure professionals can come up with even worse ideas. The important thing is to keep Katy’s tatas in the public eye for all to enjoy. Katy, you got ‘em so flaunt ‘em, every chance you get. Just, please, don’t sing anymore.
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