Via a tipster, we have occasion to look at a remarkable post from Asheville Craigslist, titled “Too much to ask? m4w.”
When someone’s on Craigslist asking Hey: too much?—the answer has historically been: Absolutely. And naturally, this guy’s asking for tit pics. “No thanks,” you might be thinking. “I don’t even know you, and besides, I haven’t even seen my own tits in years.”
But—before you start doing the simultaneous eyeroll-jackoff motion—I beg you to allow this dipshit genius to really build his case. He begins:
Maybe this is asking too much, but . . I’m looking for inspiration and was wondering if there are any women out there who would be willing to share some of their goddess-energy with me, to put some spark in my day: I would really like to see your tits.
I promise I won’t share your picture or touch myself in any way.
Imagine this noble man, alone in a basement Library of Congress of photographic tittays. His penis tweaks to life, slightly. DON’T! he screams at it. I told CRAIGSLIST that I WOULDN’T TOUCH MYSELF—IN ANY WAY!
Because (all emphases in these quotes ours):
I’m not a pervert and I promise that I won’t try to phone you to whisper, “so, uh, what are you wearing right now?” because actually I’ll be looking at your tits and I’ll know that you’re not wearing anything. I’m really a pretty decent, respectful guy; and I want to see your tits.
I’m not looking for you to “flash” me your tits; this isn’t Friday. I don’t have any gripes with Flash Friday, and applaud any woman who flashes for fun. But this is different. If you’ll excuse the expression, this isn’t about titillation; this isn’t about sex: If I wanted to see just any old tits, well, I’ve heard rumors that there might be some secret sites on the Internet where I could maybe find pictures of actual breasts. But I don’t want that. I want you. I want your attitude. Real woman. Real tits. Real attitude.
I want to know that somewhere in this city there is a woman who knows about the power of her own tits and isn’t afraid of that power.
Nothing like a little bit of old-fashioned empowerment marketing—someone get this man a job at Dove’s ad agency! And he’s just getting started:
What your tits look like really doesn’t matter. Big tits, small tits, round tits, sagging tits, pointy, pierced, painted, pristine, powdered, pert, perky or pendulous tits.
*dusts extra powder on my delicious trapezoidal rack and continues reading*
Bring ‘em all. I don’t care about your age (18+) or your ethnicity. Bring ‘em. I need your tits. Flat-chested? Great! Bring your tits, because do you really think I’m going to be inspired by the lobular glands hanging off your chest? Is that what I’m talking about? No, I need to see your attitude. I need your “happy tit” attitude. I need to know that there are women who want to shake their tits at the night sky and howl like a wolf. Can you feel the energy, just thinking about it?!
As a matter of fact, I can.
You think America was built on the backs of immigrants? Wrong! America was built by immigrant women, on their backs, shagging like monkeys, making a new generation of Americans! And THAT’S what I’m talking about! The creative, life-sustaining power of women and their tits. I need some of that serious tit-mojo.
Don’t just limit this to immigrants, though, it was all women who were on their backs without the legal recourse to say no! Anyway, back to tits:
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