Racking up the self esteem points
In a desperate flamboyance
Featuring the buoyant backside
That nobody but her husband should see,
A marketing machine
Has bobbed into our lives again
As a crack once limited
To that channel surviving only
By the graces of those made up faces
And over developed personalities,
Errr, proportions
Could we invent an “ASP”
A piece of mobile technology
That will allow us to block
That asinine family from our internet feeds,
Cable television, and vernacular
So that they could live
As freely, and in whatever
State of agitation or nakedness,
Suits their their needy butts
Without exposing us to their
Rotund and cheeky
Posterior parading for attention
