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Interstellar Booty Bandits / 592016

  • Syndicate
  • Regular
  • Role play
  • Exploration
    Exploration
  • Transport
    Transport

If an ass claps and no one is around to hear it does it make a sound? We believe it does. We’ve heard the angelic booty applause resonate through the galaxy, and it’s our sworn duty to preserve the legacy set forth by Hugh Mungus and Butch Eeks; by continuing their quest for the perfect ass.



History

The origins of our merry band of ass chasers can be traced all the way back to the year 1837 when the 8th and most beloved American president, Martin van Buren, took to his throne in the Oval Office. Van Buren was known for being a real ass man; a booty connoisseur, if you will. There was nothing he could appreciate more than one of his many presidential bitches “backing dat ass up”.

Martin’s demand for booty sparked the Seat Meat Race of 1841. The competition shook the world as fellow rump enthusiasts scoured the planet for the perfect butt. When the hunt came to an end, after the dust settled, and cheeks evaluated; Martin van Buren made the final decision. The victory went to the dynamic duo Hugh Mungus and Butch Eeks for retrieving the most fantastic pair of glutes anyone had ever seen! Everyone wanted to know where they discovered the magnificent ass. Brazil? Canada? Russia? Somewhere deep in the Congo? On the corner of Main Street?? No, of course these futile guesses were all wrong.

“The answer is simple” Hugh Mungus replied, “dat ass is not of this world.” As crazy as it seemed, Martin van Buren could not contest it, he had never experienced a booty of such magnitude ever before. Van Buren asked the heroic pair how they came across the otherworldly specimen. Butch Eeks unfolded their story; “We spotted what we thought was a shooting star while on the hunt for rump. As we watched, it came closer and closer until it flew by and crashed on a nearby hill. Upon reaching the site, I noted a crumpled metal mass smoldering on the ground, then Hugh pointed at the wreckage. And out from the rubble rose a being with the likes of which I’d never seen. With an outstretched hand it held before our very eyes the perfect ass you had been seeking. Negotiations were futile and barter could not be agreed on. Neither of us were fond of the idea of fighting the strange creature. So we camped out nearby to watch our new ‘friend’. As luck would have it, the creature slumped over and it appeared to be sleeping. We saw out chance and quietly rushed to it’s side in hopes of removing the booty from him. With a careful tug the booty was free and we slinked away back to our hiding place. Booty in hand, the only thing left to do was to get back to the States to enter this majestic ass.” The rest is history.

The two adventurers, Hugh Mungus and Butch Eeks, may have won the Seat Meat Race but they knew there had to be more perfect asses out there; just waiting to be recovered. It was then that they founded the Interstellar Booty Bandits: A devoted group of ass admirers, booty praisers, and cheek gazers whomst sole purpose was to search the stars for these immaculate hams.

That duty has now been passed down to us; the last few remaining zealots for booty. Our ranks swell with like-minded individuals who want to revitalize what matters most: ass. Ass is what gives a Booty Bandit his power. It’s created by all living things. The booty surrounds us, and penetrates us. It binds the galaxy together. All energy from all things that have ever lived, feeds into the booty, binding everything and communicating to us through the cheeks. This is why the Interstellar Booty Bandits will relentlessly seek out the precious booty. In the great name of Van Buren, go forth! Godspeed! May the booty bless us all. . .

Manifesto

We just really like ass. Our endless search for perfect bootys give our lives meaning and purpose. Simply put, don’t get between us and da booty. The IBB has no problem blasting down the infidels. Especially guys who prefer breasts over ass… I mean really… at the end of the day everyone turns to a good booty to take their daily hassles out on (in the least rape-y way possible). Our forsaken brothers of the boob persuasion are only misguided fools who must be shown the light. So that’s what we’re here to do: Blow shit up and ogle galactic buttocks. AND WE’RE ALL OUTA BUM!!

Charter

Here in the IBB, we strive to not only find that massive galactic booty somewhere out in space… but we also like to have fun. We like bootys. Not assholes. Or dickheads. There’s a difference. You know what I mean. Just don’t do it. Because then we’d have to shoot you. Like a lot.