Knob Ryder

Rating: FOUR "Where Does Semen Go When It Dies?" BUSTED NUTS

There's something about the word "HOOTER" that's been horribly, horribly degraded by the witheringly generic franchise restaurant chain whose scantily clad waitsluts will not fuck you no matter how big of a tip you leave. You see, in the halycon days of HOOTERS past you could use HOOTERS, almost interchangeably with TaTas, Dig Dugs, ChimiChangas and our all time fave, Ruggle Sacks.

Those were the days, yes, those were the days when the anachronistic TIT, a word that seemed so piquantly 60s (and always almost exclusively used by men), gave way to more florid utterances and perfectly captured the joy and awe of the protuberant.

JILL KELLY'S HEROES SERVED UP WITH A NICE COCONUT GLAZE

But forgetting for awhile that HOOTERS has become the functional equivalent of STARBUCKS, and remembering for a second the appeal of a nice, big giant pair of tayt-ays (real or not so), we find ourselves well welcome in the haven of the hoot.

The bouncing hoot. The squeezed hoot. The jized on hootski. And finally the sausage bun hoot. There's a lot to play with and all the standard plays are made by the bleary bevy of the boobed--BRITTANY ANDREWS, SHAY SWEET, JILL KELLY--who fuck and suck their way to the pearly gates while we yank and bake our way to the same.

If you're not as much of a fetishist as me, this might merely constitute standard fare for you. But if you're a rootin' tootin' hooter hanger then this pulls a Class A Baroopski. Shine on you crazy golden globes all a'glisten with man sauce!!! And RISE, RISE, RISE!!!!--HORACE HOWARD

Buy it NOW!