Dearest Courtney,
It has come to my attention through a mutual friend that you are somewhat "embarrassed" by a particular part of your body. Interestingly, it's not your modest bosom or your slightly high-pitched, yet oddly endearing voice. And no, it's not your height either, my spritely little wood nymph. It's your ass.
Of all things, your ass--that firm, round apple-bottom that fills out a business suit like a football player at a custody hearing. I must say, when I first heard the news I was left agape. I just didn't know what to think. Could it be true?
I think I speak for everyone here when I say I want to bounce a quarter off that angelically-rounded protuberance of gluteal perfection. When we consider that you play tennis in those little white tennis skirts, how can we not help but prostrate ourselves in humble worship at the altar of Courtney's Ass? I bet even your ass knows it looks spectacular in tennis apparel. If your ass were a Playboy Playmate, she would have listed long walks on moon-drenched beaches and tennis skirts as her turn-ons. This is not just sausage-talk either, Courtney. I'm virtually certain that I'm not the only one upset here.
I would be willing to bet that right now, at this very second, armed with the knowledge that you have become estranged from your ass, baby Jesus is crying. He is crying, and He is crying because of You. The Bible says to love all of God's children, Courtney. Now, I'm not a religious man, but there is wisdom in those words. I mean, I consider your ass to be one of God's children. In fact, it's on my Top Ten List and, true to His Word, I love it very, very much. I'm even thinking of naming a star after it.
I can imagine, Courtney, that you might be a touch reluctant to heed the advice of a 26 year-old asshole with no internal monologue and a moral compass that's been broken since the first Bush administration. I'm not going to say I understand it, because that would be a lie...but I can certainly imagine it. What I cannot fathom is how you can disregard the hypnotic bass beat of an entire genre of music. Hip-hop would be lost without your ass, Courtney. Baby Got Back? Apparently not. Thong Song? What's the point. Back That Ass Up? What ass? And into what exactly?
Your ass is poised to go down in music history as a hero--a guiding force in the evolution of hip-hop. Yet you just sit there sheepishly ready to throw it all away. In 50 years, Court, on the Mt. Rushmore of Rap, it will be Dr. Dre, Public Enemy, Jay-Z...and Your Ass. In the Pantheon of Hip-Hop Inspiration, Your Ass will join Bling in your rightful places on the throne upon the mountain top--Hera, to Bling's Zeus. Stop for a second and just let that soak in.
This is no small accomplishment, mind you. You may take it lightly and brush it off with not so much as a knowing nod, but I for one will not stand idly by and let you throw your ass away. Neglect, after all, is the single greatest obstacle we face as a nation when it comes to helping young ass reach it's ass potential.
I'm not speaking from the bully pulpit of ass fetishists here, either. I'm a connoisseur. If you had some dimpled, trailer-park shelf ass or some incomprehensible pile of ass flesh held in check by control-top hose and stirrup pants, I'd just tell you to quit your whining and get back to work as a greeter at Wal-Mart. But I'm not doing that. Instead, I'm pleading with you to love that ass. Love it and recognize it as the paragon of short, white-girl ba-donk-a-donk. It's the Platonic ideal of short, white girl ba-donk-a-donk. If Plato were alive today, you know what he'd say? He'd say "GODDAMN that's some ass! Now that's what I'm talking about. That's my idea of some short, white girl ba-donk-a-donk!" It's true, I swear. That's what he'd say.
Look Court, men have proposed marriage for less. They've proposed based solely on ass that pales beneath the brilliantly rounded shadow of your own. So ripe, so plump, so...perfect. It's like a built-in dowry. It's your Ass Dowry. Some brides-to-be offer family parcels of land; you can say, "have you seen my ass in tight black pants?" I'm pretty sure this is how Guinevere snagged Arthur.
This should not be a source of embarrassment or discomfort for you Courtney. This should be a wellspring of immense pride and personal accomplishment. You need to accept and harness your ass potential. Open your eyes to the light of truth and let it flood in...flood in until you can truly, honestly SEE the glory of your ass.
So is it true, Courtney? Was our friend pulling my leg? Is it true you are embarrassed about your phat bottom? Is it true that you hide it like doughnuts at fat camp? Because if it is, I implore you Courtney, LOVE YOUR ASS!
Do not be ashamed of it. Don't hide it from the rapture of glorious daylight under long jackets and ill-fitting pants. Flaunt it. Let it radiate out into the crisp winter's night air like the shining beacon of warmth and hope that we all know it to be. Give it a name and refer to yourself in first-person plural during conversation:
--We enjoyed dinner but we just don't think you're ready to come upstairs with us. We'll call you later this week.
--Bye Katie! We're going for a walk, we'll be back in 20 minutes.
Whatever you do Courtney, please, just enjoy your ass and embrace it. If you don't, I will.
Kisses,
DRex
Posted by nils at 9:46 PM