I'll be at the LA Times Festival of Books booth 389 tomorrow starting at noon http://events.latimes.com/festivalofbooks/ come get your book signed]]>
I'll be at the LA Times Festival of Books booth 389 tomorrow starting at noon http://events.latimes.com/festivalofbooks/ come get your book signed]]>
Details on my slideshow thing at Art Institute of Chicago:
This Friday
February 3, 6:00pm - 7:30pm SAIC Auditorium, 280 S. Columbus Drive
]]>Another thing Trixie's attention deficit disorder makes her susceptible to is Candy's very large breasts (not implants--this is alt porn). Her eyes will periodically light up and she will surge toward them with some expression of avid disbelief and then bury herself in them for distracted seconds like a fruit bat hanging by its teeth from the drum-tight red of a suspended treat--while Candy, still both-handedly controlling her controller, giggles benevolently over her head and counsels her to remain calm. Nearly every girl in the industry did this once they were on any kind of decent terms with Candy, but with Trixie, whose consciousness is consciously, cyclically, and forgetfully auditing all five senses for incoming data, the effect is exaggerated.
This sort of behavior is, according to what I'd seen earlier that day, what the junior senator from Pennsylvania would call "antithetical to a healthy, stable, traditional family."
On occasions such as this one, it is not uncommon for Trixie to then look down, cup her own fist-sized teardrop tits, and pensively assess them. Her nipples are interesting. When erect, it appears as if one nipple is concentrically set atop another, fatter, pinker nipple. Though they had been produced by an unhealthy, unstable, traditional family, it is difficult to know whether the senator would say that the nipples themselves are so fascinating that they are by their very essence antithetical to a healthy, stable, traditional family. However, there is no question that in their current profession as functional constituents of an adult performer--and since the senator, whose last name is a homonym for an unfortunate consequence of anal sex, is philosophically opposed to all entertainments featuring characters even approvingly discussing nonprocreative sex and believes that the First Amendment should be interpreted as having a three-tiered structure--he would have them considered, at the very least, a controlled substance. (He would lose.)
In that case, one would normally be inclined to say that the shirt that Trixie is now borrowing from me and putting on, having worn the same shirt for two days, is an ally of healthy, stable, traditional families, covering, as it did, the nipples. However, Deuteronomy 22:5 clearly states that "A woman shall not wear anything that pertains to a man, nor shall a man put on a woman's garment, for all who do so are an abomination to the Lord your God." You see, Trixie is wearing the kind of shirt that does not merely advertise Batman but that has his emblem across the chest as if she is Batman. In coincidental symmetry, I happen to be wearing a shirt, which experts would recognize through very subtle indications (gray field, yellow bat), that implies I am Batgirl. Candy wears, in a kind of sidecar coincedence parallel to the motorcycle it portrays, her own Batgirl shirt (which does actually depict the character in question, chasing nothing down the sheer and twistless ridgeline parkway of her boobs). All of this suggest an undertone of transvestitism and batgirl-on-girl action about this now-entirely-clothed scene, which may be antithetical to a healthy, stable, traditional family--even without considering that both of the girls' shirts are very tight at any rate and that Batman admirably did what he had set out to do with his life despite his parents being shot dead in Crime Alley by Joe Chill on a foggy night in Gotham City.
