Gloot Sloots

Published: 24 March 2016

(This column is a rage/satire piece intended for entertainment purposes and not to be taken seriously or with offense. Written through the perspective of an alter-ego for an online content provider, it does not reflect the views of Vicious Labs, or any associated brands or persons.)

All these pancake booty bitches taking up the leg equipment in a desperate attempt to build an ass… Your weightless hack squats and leg curls are totally working. Now, forfeit the machine and mix me a shake so I can add variety to my workout instead of being forced into barbell squats for 20 sets. These chopsticks for legs can barely muster the strength needed to stabilize the bar without folding over like a lawn chair. Sure, I understand that some of you ladies want that fuck appeal but the fact of the matter is that any one of the lat-syndrome plagued douchebags parading around with their fuckboy brigade would happily oblige your sexual insecurities after half a dozen shots of the harshest rubbing alcohol available.

There is absolutely no need to damper my training with your mediocre efforts. While your butt has all the roundness of a floppy disk, I intend to ensure my perky cheeks remain as such. Although it continues to elude me how some individuals are able to fool themselves into believing the efficacy of their approach, I am, in many ways, envious of their cognitive deficiencies. Had I been blessed with such innate talents I’d likely not be the self-deprecating sack of steroids that I am. 

Naturally, a fair portion of the preceding comments are sure to rustle a few jimmies so allow me to elaborate my intentions. I merely seek to provide the necessary balance to otherwise unforeseen chaotic forces; that is, a skew in the number of bulbous behinds walking aboot (wordage for my Canadian brethren). Should every woman suddenly sprout a delectable derrière the stock value of such a commodity would significantly lessen. A once proud individual revered for their rear-end would merely become a grain of sand in a pile of dirt. As an investor, researcher, and connoisseur – an ass economist if you will – I find the very thought of it to be nightmarish at best. And through a haze of tren induced mania I formally establish this call to arms; a truly noble act in which others abandon their pursuits for the greater good, me.