The Amazon’s have returned from the Terme to hack out a new home in this strange world. What a nice surprise! Where have they settled? Instagram. What ancient wisdom have they brought to teach? That less is more. Their arrival ushers in a new era, one that glows with the sun through your smartphone. What have they done? The Amazons have turned Instagram into an economy of asses.
On any index the ass economy has an unstoppable inertia. Clearly, this is the rocket that will take us to Mars—or at the least to the gel section at Target. And it’s all done in the name of love. Upside down hearts freely give themselves to the millions, upon millions—upon millions (upon millions)—of followers who graciously show their support with comments like…
“Hey beautiful, how are you doing and how is it going over there? wow i must say your smile is priceless and adorable, I am Anthony and you?”
“Ur Bubs, natural or implants?”
“U must be horny”
Such adoring fans! It makes the heart melt.
For the sake of research, and sentences as fine as lacy thongs, I courageously Googled “top Instagram butts” to discover who these angelic trendsetters are, and what we can learn from their transformative pursuits. What I’ve discovered is inspiring.
Miss Andrea Abeli not only lives on Instagram but has expanded her territory to a website. This is a woman who knows how to hit a hole in one. On her beloved site you find a fan page, a texting page, an Amazon wishlist, promos, and a female models wanted page. Each navigational entity is icon’d with one of two artistic styles: a glistening ass or an ass begging for freedom from the confines of its jeans. Only a silly snapshot logo—a ghost in aviators with a sardonic tongue—stands differently. If it turned around the aesthetic would be complete.
This woman is adding to the coffers of Fort Ass: golden rounded bytes that are windows to the soul. Who would have thought you had to start from the bottom to get there? There are naysayers though.
What kind of insensitive monster could possibly complain that all this skin hearkens the downfall of the West? This is a welcome revolution. I have seen more asses on Tuesday than every single person in my ancestral line—all the way back to the first potato. Now that’s progress. There’s a history book to be written here: From Ass to Instagram and back to Ass: How Instagram Brought About World Peace. A kind of hobbit’s journey where the climax is to throw your clothes into a molten fire to reveal one g-string to rule them all.
Because these asses are the leaders of today.
Anyone who insults the Amazon warriors is against artistic expression. There is a perfect pose, a strut, a facade of life that Plato’s forms can only gawk at. As Miss Julie Giles—floating naked on her back with her tits buoying just above the water table—says, “It’s impossible to explain creativity. It’s like asking a bird, ‘How do you fly?’ You just do.” Genius.
What would Michelangelo do/be in this world? How could the aggravated man possibly compete? Would he bother to sculpt the Pieta when a young Medici would be too busy admiring manipulated angles that make slabs of fat into marble? Maybe Michelangelo would have been a photographer, one commissioned by the Pope to create a nunnery calendar.
What these Amazons need next is stock options. I want to invest. Screw Bitcoin; the ass economy is on a trajectory that would make Rothschild sweat with a lip-bite. What we need is an ICO: a unifying blockchain-backed currency whose value is dictated by hashtags like #bootybootybooty (2,746,289 posts) and #bootyfordays (3,749,982 posts). So long as I don’t subscribe to exclusive Patreon images I’ll be rich—in spirit.
The Amazons have returned. Their asses are marching in union, arm-in-arm. A sisterhood of entrepreneurial thots, and the wretched civilization of men who support their asses with gold.