ah, the quintessential washed-out-tourists-but-that's-a-nice-fucking- bridge photo. congrats, man. i can feel the love. it's oozing out of the monitor and forming into a nice heart-shaped puddle. when do we celebrate?

there's this tradition i hear, of sticking images of our most celebrated, yet least monetarily valued president into the thin under-things of an otherwise nude, unknown woman to consecrate such an intimate union. i'm all for it. let's set a date.