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vicemag:

THE TOP 10 MOST PLAYED SONGS ON SEVERAL AUTHORS’ ITUNES
SALMAN RUSHDIE
1. Rihanna “S&M”2. Rihanna “We Found Love”3. The Benedictine Monks of Santo Domingo de Silos “Kyrie XI, in mode 1”4. Rihanna “You Da One”5. Shakira “Hips Don’t Lie”6. System of a Down “Prison Song”7. Madonna “Music”8. Das Racist “Coochie Dip City”9. Fergie “Glamorous”10. Ace of Base “Don’t Turn Around”
Each evening in his study, after exhausting Facebook and Twitter and Tumblr and OKCupid and Match and Grindr and Redtube, Salman Rushdie likes to take off all his clothes and stand before his full-length platinum glitter-bedecked mirror. His Old-Guy-In-The-Club shuffle by now is pretty advanced. He takes his glasses off and sucks his pinky and strokes his beard. He rubs his chest and nipples to the bass, vibrating low and hard all through his chub. He doesn’t even need to touch himself directly—his novelist’s imaginative powers, honed over years and years of architecting plots, can make the fantasy so real. He need not close his eyes to see Rihanna or Shakira or Madonna or Katy Perry or Gwen Stefani or Prince or sometimes just a feminized doppelganger of himself—whichever—with her body there against him, mouth half open in desire, nuzzling her tits against his tits, singing the song she could only have written for him, a private Pulitzer of lust.
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vicemag:

THE TOP 10 MOST PLAYED SONGS ON SEVERAL AUTHORS’ ITUNES

SALMAN RUSHDIE

1. Rihanna “S&M”
2. Rihanna “We Found Love”
3. The Benedictine Monks of Santo Domingo de Silos “Kyrie XI, in mode 1”
4. Rihanna “You Da One”
5. Shakira “Hips Don’t Lie”
6. System of a Down “Prison Song”
7. Madonna “Music”
8. Das Racist “Coochie Dip City”
9. Fergie “Glamorous”
10. Ace of Base “Don’t Turn Around”

Each evening in his study, after exhausting Facebook and Twitter and Tumblr and OKCupid and Match and Grindr and Redtube, Salman Rushdie likes to take off all his clothes and stand before his full-length platinum glitter-bedecked mirror. His Old-Guy-In-The-Club shuffle by now is pretty advanced. He takes his glasses off and sucks his pinky and strokes his beard. He rubs his chest and nipples to the bass, vibrating low and hard all through his chub. He doesn’t even need to touch himself directly—his novelist’s imaginative powers, honed over years and years of architecting plots, can make the fantasy so real. He need not close his eyes to see Rihanna or Shakira or Madonna or Katy Perry or Gwen Stefani or Prince or sometimes just a feminized doppelganger of himself—whichever—with her body there against him, mouth half open in desire, nuzzling her tits against his tits, singing the song she could only have written for him, a private Pulitzer of lust.

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    @hotdancer92 @g_rigg. Thought you guys should
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