Paul Parillo Booty Music!

Booty music; my Kryptonite, my Achilles heel, my hot soup on a cold day, my wet cabbage inside a dry vertebrae, my guilty pleasure. What is "booty music" you might ask, and if you're not asking, it's probably because you're a pedophile - so listen up! "Booty Music" as defined by me is A: a certain musical style which is usually devoid of any redeemable qualities yet possess the power to make humans' butt's shake like a grand mal seizure; B: music created from the inside of someone's butt. Today, I'll be referring to the first definition - and if you want that restraining order removed from your name, I suggest you pay close attention.

I consider it a guilty pleasure because its unbecoming of anyone who isn't a carrot. And by that I mean, anyone who has half a brain (and if you're lucky, half a Brian - he's really handy in a tight spot). On the surface, it's loud, unoriginal and boasts lyrics that could be written by an inebriated llama, but when you dig deeper you realize, that's it. For some reason, though, the moment a song like this begins playing, all booty hell breaks loose. Asses punching dicks in the face, other asses hitting more asses in their ass heads - you never know what'll happen next, but as long as that music keeps playing, no one gives a flying squirrel! 

I hate dancing, I look stupid doing it and have no right to step on the dance floor. That being said, no other-worldly restraint could keep me from shakin' n ' bakin' when a booty song enters my ear sacks. It's a pleasure I've felt guilty for for years and only after coming out and expressing my lust for it have I truly gained from it's one dimensional properties.  I am a proud booty music lover and I feel it my task to transform those who remain shrouded in the darkness of their ignorance - may your booty bounce with much fervour and purpose, and may the sound of your thunderous assclap reverberate off the walls of my darkened basement.


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