The sexual innuendo in this satirical (I hope) love poem to the PlayStation 3 is . . . GRAPHIC!
I don't find it particularly persuasive though. While the trusty PS3 might allow me to go online whenever I want and would never question my choices--except hitting ABAC when attempting a jump kick rather than the proper BBCA--the PS3 won't truly love me.
I'd be the one eating seven pumpkin pies and weeping softly in the corner.
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