Angelina Jolie Undergoes Double Mastectomy

When did you stop believing in God? Was it when a loved one died? In the wake of the Sandy Hook shooting? Maybe after a complex bout of soul searching when you comprehended just how many calories are in cheesecake?

I’ll tell you when I lost the faith: When I awoke this morning to the news Angelia Jolie lopped off both her tits.

Angelina’s rack was one of the only sexy things left in Hollywood. A lot of people might not understand what that means, so permit me to explain: For the average guy, after a certain age, you grow out of having lustful thoughts of movie stars and instead, when getting a moment’s breather while toiling at the job you hate, you imagine sticking your dick into porn stars or the cute temp in customer service. There’s something more sexual about those prospects than an antiseptic, boring piece of movie ass which might be enough to titillate a eunuch like Billy Bush, but not an actual man.

Miss Jolie was one of the only movie stars you could have a crush on and still look at yourself in the mirror. Do you forget the Tomb Raider poster? That bitch looks like she could ride in a way that would make Laffit Pincay jealous.

I’m trying to find solace in the fact that Angelina’s tits were half robot to begin with, but it isn’t really helping. You know what else was half-human, half-machine? This. You know what it looked like when the human half went away? This. No. Fucking. Thanks.

The reality is Angelina Jolie is a living being. She made a decision based upon the future of her health and her family, and it was a wise one. But, in my reality, Angelina Jolie is simply an image that pops up from time to time that makes my wiener smile. And thus this news sucks.

Maybe this will make Angelina eager to show off her surgically-built, bionic tits in an effort to show that one can still be sexy with nary a gram of mammarian flesh to be found. I’d like that. A large portion of my high school experience was drinking late at night with friends in front of the television, all of us nursing a hardon whenever Gia popped on. Seeing those nipples make a final appearance would put a lump in my throat and take me back to my youth as sure as Ken Griffey, Jr. homering at 40.

The sun will set today on an emptier world, my awareness of my own mortality ever amplified. For all is dust–even the best breasts in the West. All I can hope is that, somewhere, Elton John is readying a second remake of “Candle in the Wind” to help heal our sobbing hearts. Goodbye, awesome tits…