lots about nothing

I am seriously more excited about post 15 than, say, post 9. And it's not because post 15 will have adventure, lavish costumery, a soundtrack by the Finn brothers and loads of sex. It's not because post 15 is as deep as a Maya Angelou verse, as ribald as a Greenwich Village drag parade and as introspective as an unplugged Kravitz set. In no way is the reason for my love of post 15 that it is being sponsored by Meow Mix. Post 15 is just retardly fantastic. Post 15 makes the ladies swoon and the manhearts palpitate lustily. Post 15 just received a guaranteed contract of $90 million for five years. Bow to post 15. Worship at the altar of post 15. Sacrifice your lambs and virgins. Exalt and rejoice. It may save your soul from a righteous, vengeful smiting.

Just what the hell is going on here?

Post 15? What? Well, envision this:

Post 15 has a perm, lush brown skin and is draped in a velvety shroud of matted kitten whiskers. Furthermore, it is leathery, languid and possesses unrivaled muscle tone. It would never, ever have sex on the first date, or eat anything but salad with a salad fork. Post 15 will not dance to anything but a waltz nor will it emit flatulence in public places. It would never engage in an open-mouthed kiss or stare too long at a cripple. Post 15 knows where it is going when it dies and asks, "Do you?"

I think I hate post 15.