Quell your indignation that M does not stand for Mammaries. There’s no call to encroach upon Egotastic! Towers in the witching hour, in sandwich boards that proclaim WE WANT BOOBS and/or smash windows to gain access and shit in the wastebins. Tantalizing as the concept was, we have scrutinized the issue (until we issued, if you will) of virtual chesticles here; surely sufficient to satiate even the most vigorous of imaginary-lady-lusting onanists.
As such, the topic du jour is instead MECHS (or mecha), those preposterous robotic wonders that travel at speeds that render light as ponderous as a snail that’s been trampled into the dirty, dirty ground; and propel thermobaric missiles from their humongous metallic asscracks. While lacking the style of one of those Lazy-Wagons that octogenarians heroically pilot across the sidewalk at three-eighths of a kilometer an hour, the madness within the gallery remains worthy of perusal.