Oh my Gawd!

For some reason I’ve always been fascinated by this: The level of passion and intensity to which these sparkling lip-gloss girls of our era manage to excite themselves and each other and spin into somewhat animalic volume heights; how they manage to involve Oh My(ghty) Gawd himself every time they open their sweet(tasting) little mouths. But possibly more than anything else I am taken aback again and again by the authenticity mustered by these nymphets when they – with wide-open eyes portraying the contents of a hopelessly flat and/or hopelessly green interior landscape – deliver an endless line of strung together words rich on spit and equally devoured of spirit. Can one do anything but love these, the true gods of our time?