After gazing at such a photograph, a fellow might have to make this decision:
Do I start guzzling to try and kill the pain and horror experienced from looking at this photo?
(OR)
Do I start guzzling in ecstasy and celebrate that what I am doing precludes the possibility of ever even coming near one of these sweet flowers of American womanhood?
A tip of the hat and a delicate bow to Jill, who curtsies gracefully.
Per Joizeygoils request:
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