Category Archives: sex

Bettie Page (Innocence courting the Dark)

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I have been a fan of Bettie Page since her resurgence in the eighties. She died in 2008, and was a sweet Christian little old lady. Bettie had an innocence even when posing completely nude and in suggestive ways. It is hard to get to the bottom of her appeal. There were many pinups in the fifties, but Bettie stood out. I think it is because when men looked at her nude photos it was as if they had violated Bettie herself. She seemed sweet and innocent, unaware of the lustful intents of her fans, and would have been shocked if she knew what men did as they viewed her photos. At least this is what men wanted to imagine. Women who no longer felt the slightest shame and viewed sex completely as a necessary commodity in order for them to live, in other words, whores, were not much of a turn on to men who wanted to dominate their women. Bettie seemed to invite such domination.

But of course all of this is nonsense. Bettie knew what she was doing, but it is true that she might have developed a split personality isolating the naughty Bettie from the God-fearing Bettie. She claimed to see nothing wrong with what she did, but I am not sure I believe her. She took her Christianity very seriously, perhaps too seriously. I don’t know any of the particulars of why she spent time in a mental hospital, but I suspect it may have been the conflict between her religious values and her livelihood may have sent her around the bend.

Bettie was sexy in a kind of effortless way. She seemed to keep a bit of herself hidden from view, pure and unsullied. We could lust over her lovely body but not her soul. Sex should never become ordinary and unremarkable. There should be a dark thrill at the sight of a woman’s pubic hair. It brings forth the desire to possess, to conquer, to rape and pillage. Pure naked lust married to aggression is the driving force behind the appeal of Bettie Page’s fetishistic work. It is disguised as playful, but this stuff is dark. It involves degradation and humiliation. Sexual pleasure becomes confused with these things, and with physical pain itself. It is curious that Bettie appeared to embrace this lifestyle, given her near obsession with Christianity. I am sure she claimed she didn’t really understand what all the bondage stuff was about, but I think that is disingenuous. She knew. She liked it. Then she could no longer accept this courting of the Dark, and reinterpreted her life to preserve her innocence. At least this is how it seems to me.

This still doesn’t get to the bottom of her appeal. She is naughty in a non-naughty way. She was a way of satisfying one’s prurient desire while pretending to have only an ‘artistic’ interest in Bettie Page. This is true even of this post. Is she really the icon of hip female sexuality? or is she the icon of the rape of the innocent and the subjugation and humiliation of women? Perhaps both. Bettie was the beginning of the metrosexual. A culture in which it is cool to find pleasure in pain, and that your body should be a banquet for all your admirers to feed upon. Having said all that I am still a fan of Bettie Page although I admit to having mixed feelings about it, as I have mixed feelings about any pornography. But this isn’t pornography, I can hear some of you saying. Sure it is. If you are getting a boner looking at it, it has excited your prurient interest. Not necessarily a bad thing. Do I feel some of you squirming as you contemplate your values. Good. I have achieved my purpose.

Cock Culture

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WARNING: THIS POST COULD BE CONSTRUED AS PORNOGRAPHIC BY THOSE WHO ARE OFFENDED BY THE SIGHT OF MALE GENITALIA. I DO THIS TO INJECT SOME HUMOR AND TO GET THE READER TO THINKING ABOUT HIS OR HER REACTIONS TO THE SIGHT OF A PENIS. IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY PENISES I SUGGEST YOU CLICK OFF OF THIS POST AND FIND SOMETHING MORE TO YOUR TASTE.

The penis has played such an important role in American history it should be given it’s own stamp.

The penis is a much disparaged organ. It is blamed for the appalling state of our popular culture. If only men were dickless then perhaps things would be better. I think that kind of thinking is wrong. I feel sexuality should be celebrated, while recognizing how it’s misuse leads to sickening abuse and worse. I love my own penis, other guy’s jolly organ I tolerate. I can certainly understand why women (and men) would consider the penis to be quite ugly. It is just a tube after all. It serves it’s function and that is pretty much it. It isn’t even particularly good design. Urination and procreation performed by the same tube? Bad idea. But I already posted my thoughts about the penis. Here I want to write about Cock Culture. I don’t even like the word ‘Cock’. I don’t like ‘Cunt’ either. That ‘k’ sound is so unpleasant, not sexy at all. I prefer penis because it is a silly name, at least the name is unoffensive even if the organ isn’t. Actually it is the person attached to the penis that is offensive, don’t you think?

This testosterone driven culture that we inherited from the British enabled us to almost conquer a continent. We raped and pillaged our way across virgin territory, driving out the native Americans. Because we could. That is the ethos of Cock Culture. If you can’t eat it, then fuck it. Spreading our seed without regard for the feelings of the fucked was our manifest destiny. We felt we could always manage to achieve an erection and push ourselves onto the rest of the world. We shoved our cock into the mouths of Vietnam, and today we are attempting to do the same in Afghanistan and it isn’t working so well. Of course it failed miserably in Vietnam. Many still reason that we lost that war because we just didn’t keep on thrusting until we achieved orgasm. We committed the cardinal sin of Cock Culture. We pulled out. We continue to force the rest of the world to take notice of us. We shove our cocks into the unwilling faces of the rest of the world, with little regard for the indigenous culture. We have to have the largest and longest cock, the greatest nation in the world!! This is our sickness. Our politicians jerk us off every four years with their patriotic talk of America’s greatness. As you undoubtedly know (provided you are a man), your judgement is impaired when you are caught up in a lustful frenzy. Ooops! I just assumed she wanted it. Of course she did, look at how she is dressed. She is begging for it. And of course the penis, being a mere tube, has no scruples.

Come on and ride the Penis Train! It will be a long hard ride, but when you get to your destination you will be so satisfied!

But make no mistake, Cock Culture built America. When we built the railroads and sent these phallic engines charging across the landscape asserting our economic will, this was one of our grandest erections. Many men today look back fondly on that spectacular orgasm. Back in those days men stroked their cocks with pride. They were doing the lord’s work! Of course it wasn’t until Sigmund Freud explained it to us that we recognized how important a role the penis played in all aspects of civilization by the sword. It is all about sex, Freud said, and he made a good point. But that proved to be the beginning of the end for Cock Culture. It used to be, and still is to a large extent, that the penis was forbidden. You didn’t talk about it, think about it, you never played with it, and you certainly never presented it for perusal in mixed company, or any company for that matter. It is perfectly ok to display the vagina for this helps to dispel the mysterious hold this enclosure has over our male psyche. But displaying the penis is sick. Why? Because it amounts to the same thing as pulling back the curtain to reveal the little old wrinkled man pulling the levers, pretending to be this magnificent monster, the Cock!! It helps to dispel the myth of the penis, the myth of forbidden sexuality. I view with considerable trepidation my posting photos of the penis. WordPress may punish me dearly for this transgression. What if children saw this? I doubt any children check out my blog anyway, but if they did, it might just (oh my God!!) lead to questions. Why is the penis bad, daddy? Ask your mother. Why is the penis bad, mommy? Ask your dad. And on it goes, until finally they get something along the lines that it is nasty and private. Such ideas really make for a lousy time of it when these children attempt to come to terms with their own penises or vaginas. I say that is nonsense, people are nasty, penises are not. I would like to print t-shirts with a penis on them saying “Chill out! It’s just a tube!”

The penis plays such a central role in San Francisco’s culture that the city should place the head of a penis atop Coit Tower, as a celebration of San Francisco’s perpetual hard-on.

So anyhow I push the limits of acceptable blogging once again and if this causes my blog to suffer, I will remove the offending posts and do my penance. Forgive me for my outrageousness. (have you ever noticed how when something really bad happens, especially if it is sexual, it is called ‘outrageous’. I always thought that being outrageous was a good thing. It is the root of artistic creation and innovation. The popular media has hijacked this word!!! and made it offensive. Is being bland and inoffensive a sign of mental health. I think not. If this offended you, I gave you fair warning and you looked at it anyway. Why is that??

OMG!! What will Russellpop do next????

Sex Death

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Just look at her and think, I mean really think. This is the face of death, not the face of pleasure, or of sex, just Sex Death.

This is a difficult piece to write. I noticed that stellamarr was following stockphotogirl, one of my other blogs. If you haven’t checked out that blog you should do so before finishing this piece so you will know what I am going on about. And so I checked out her blog, and in turn I checked out the secret diary of a Dublin call girl. This is not easy reading, especially for a man. Stella Marr is an ex-call girl, now a writer. I know next to nothing about the sex industry to be honest, although I have very liberal views about sex, and about women. I am dead set against the exploitation of women in any form, and yet am I exploiting stock photo woman? When she posed for those photos she understood that her image would be used for advertising, but not to illustrate a work of fiction. I wonder how she would feel about my whole series. Would she feel abused? But more about that later, my focus for this post is on the horror of prostitution, and the world of call girls. The photo above says it all as far as street prostitution is concerned. She is anorexic either due to drug use or just because she thinks she needs to be super thin to be a suitable commodity. Whatever is the case, I am literally sickened by the fact that sex has become a means for demeaning and destroying the lives of millions of women, and actually, to a lesser extent, the men who prey on them. When I read blogs like the secret diary of a Dublin call girl I want my penis to shrivel up to the size of a pea and then fall off. It makes me ashamed of my sexuality. Young women are perceived as sex objects every minute of their lives, usually in more subtle ways than what is involved in outright prostitution. I think it comes as a shocking discovery to many young men that women are in fact human like themselves, and exist for reasons other than sexually satisfying men. A lot of young and older men never make this discovery. I have a very hard time of it, because I have unwittingly used women. I try to redeem it with the writing itself, transforming stock photo girl into an actual human being. At least, I hope I have succeeded in doing this. But that whole thing is based on an infatuation I had with that model, so sex is it’s underpinning. I would not want to demean or embarrass that model. But am I anyway? Am I being demeaning in ways I don’t understand or detect? This is the problem for many men. We can’t always tell when we are being thoughtless towards women. Or am I being unduly harsh on myself? In the one sexual scene I wrote with stock photo girl, she was not used or abused in any way. He didn’t pay for sex, the fantasy was consensual, in fact it had been her idea. Plus I deliberately stood on it’s head the usual expectations of a male reader regarding sexual encounters. Women being in awe of a man’s sexual prowess just isn’t my bag, I can’t write that crap.

I would recommend that men read secretlifeofamanhattancallgirl.wordpress, which is Stella Marr’s blog, as well as the secret diary of a Dublin callgirl. Because we need that perspective. When we get caught up in our sexual fantasies this provides a bit of realism. Women do not exist for our sexual pleasure. They have lives which have nothing to do with us, which we should familarize ourselves with. Some guys get really pissed off by these women, if you are the sort of man who can’t handle ‘uppity’ women, you should steer clear. Now, as I have made clear on several occasions, I am a bit of a pervert, I have a perverse imagination to be sure, so don’t think from what I have written here that I am some kind of holy saint. Or that I am a feminist. No. My misogynist roots are deep, and it takes blogs like Stella Marr’s blog or Margaret Cho’s blog to help dig those roots out. In a word, dear reader, you have no idea, really no idea just how degrading prostitution is for all concerned, but especially for the prostitute. It is Sex Death as far as I am concerned. It kills all the pleasure anyone might obtain from sex. Now I recognize that there may be exceptions to this, but they are exceptions that prove the rule. I’m talking about the scummy underbelly of the sex industry. The part that industry prefers you not know about. Now I am not a psychologist and I can’t examine what causes women to take that road, sometimes they really have no choice in the matter. They may be literal sex slaves, prostitutes because they would be killed otherwise, or it may be because they see no other option. Sex is the most powerful drug on Earth, when you harness sex to other needs it is damn near impossible to deal with. It takes over your life, It ceases to be a source of pleasure, and empowerment, and becomes an agony, a sex death. It makes me want to be celibate, and never write pieces like “An Indecent Proposal” again. But after a bit, I gain some perspective.

I should not be ashamed of my love of sex. But I should keep a good eye (my one good eye), on my intention. What am I trying to achieve with sex? Is a woman’s body a commodity? Am I redeeming myself when I take an obvious commodity such as a Stock Photo Woman and attempt to make her a real character? While I definitely have the hots for that model, I also wonder about what she is like as a person. Am I exploiting her? I would like to think I’m not by virtue of how I have used her image. To be honest, the entire fashion industry is founded upon women as sex objects, and very particular sex objects at that. If a woman doesn’t look like the beautiful, perfectly crafted stock photo women they see everywhere, then a man is sorely disappointed. Guys????? Hello????? These women are pure product, as far as the image is concerned. They don’t exist in real life. Take a look at the actual women you see every day, in the flesh. My intention with Stock Photo Woman was to repurpose all of that nonsense. Far from making her an empty shell, I have endeavored to sabotage male expectations. But I am a flawed man. I do not pretend to be free of male chauvinism. I am not a champion for women’s rights necessarily, although I do support that. I am just an older man with a crush on a stock photo woman. Does this make me a punter?, I wonder. A punter is a john in case you were wondering. And if you don’t know what a john is, then you are too young to be reading this material, go back to bed young man!

It is hard to have a sense of humor about these matters. I have to admit, I wonder at why Stella Marr would want to follow my stockphotogirl blog. Does she genuinely enjoy it? or does she want to see how this punter exploits an innocent model who didn’t ask to be in his story. If ever I get a complaint from this model, believe you me, the posts disappear just like that. I have no desire to hurt anyone. Or am I just full of shit, as usual? Let me know. Especially you, Stella Marr.

The Harlot’s House

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Lady Lilith by Dante Gabriel Rossetti (face enlarged)

THE HARLOT’S HOUSE

by: Oscar Wilde

E caught the tread of dancing feet,
We loitered down the moonlit street,
And stopped beneath the harlot’s house.

Inside, above the din and fray,
We heard the loud musicians play
The “Treues Liebes Herz” of Strauss.

Like strange mechanical grotesques,
Making fantastic arabesques,
The shadows raced across the blind.

We watched the ghostly dancers spin
To sound of horn and violin,
Like black leaves wheeling in the wind.

Like wire-pulled automatons,
Slim silhouetted skeletons
Went sidling through the slow quadrille.

The took each other by the hand,
And danced a stately saraband;
Their laughter echoed thin and shrill.

Sometimes a clockwork puppet pressed
A phantom lover to her breast,
Sometimes they seemed to try to sing.

Sometimes a horrible marionette
Came out, and smoked its cigarette
Upon the steps like a live thing.

Then, turning to my love, I said,
“The dead are dancing with the dead,
The dust is whirling with the dust.”

But she–she heard the violin,
And left my side, and entered in:
Love passed into the house of lust.

Then suddenly the tune went false,
The dancers wearied of the waltz,
The shadows ceased to wheel and whirl.

And down the long and silent street,
The dawn, with silver-sandalled feet,
Crept like a frightened girl.
‘The Harlot’s House’ was originally published in The Dramatic Review (April, 1885).

Lady Lilith, 1866-68 (altered 1872-73)
Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882)
Oil on canvas, 38 x 33 1/2 inches
Delaware Art Museum, Samuel and Mary R. Bancroft Memorial, 1935

Lilith, the subject of this painting, is described in Judaic literature as the first wife of Adam. She is associated with the seduction of men and the murder of children. The depiction of women as powerful and evil temptresses was prevalent in 19th-century painting, particularly among the Pre-Raphaelites. The artist depicts Lilith as an iconic, Amazon-like female with long, flowing hair. Her languid nature is reiterated in the inclusion of the poppy in the lower right corner—the flower of opium-induced slumber.

http://www.delart.org/collections/preraph/lady_lilith.html  The Link is for the Delaware Art Museum

This is the first of my attempts to put together art, poetry, and music of the same period, in this case the late Nineteenth Century. The music is by Richard Strauss, Dance of the Seven Veils.

Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood

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Rossetti: Proserpine

 The Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood was a group of painters, poets, and critics formed in 1848. They wished to restore art and literature to a more spiritual form of expression, instead of the rather formal constraints of academic art. Certain simple conventions prevailed in art beginning with Raphael. There was a tendency to avoid ostentation or excessive realism in any form. The Pre-Raphaelite wanted to return to a style that sought to depict nature as accurately as possible with extreme detail, realism, and spectacular color. All of this was in the service of a more spiritual result. They were in the vanguard of the Romantic movement in the arts. The Brotherhood didn’t last that long, by the end of the 1860’s they had more or less gone their separate ways, but their work inspired the later Symbolists and eventually the Decadence movement. The primary artists within the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood were William Holman Hunt, John Everett Millais, and Daniel Gabriel Rossetti. What I really like about these artists are how they depict the female form. They conveyed the magical quality of a woman’s face. There is a rich sensuality to their works due to the hyperrealism (my term. they were HD before the term existed). and vivid use of beautiful sexy colors. Beauty and sex are so closely related it is hard to separate the two. Sex is the desire to become one with the beautiful beloved, to merge together forming a new, uniquely beautiful and sexy being, and on it goes. From my perspective, art can serve a magical purpose, allowing the viewer to access parts of his or her self in ways not possible in any other way. Besides, it is awkward and rude to stare at a beautiful woman, however a painting of a beautiful woman can be stared at with delight, with no ill consequences. Alas, in some respects, all realistic art is pornographic. This is why realistic art was banned in the middle ages. I used to think they just didn’t have the skills, but no, the simple unrealistic forms are deliberate. Notice Rossetti’s use of the pomegranite (at least, I think that is what she’s holding). An unconscious association is made with the vagina. In the world of the pre-Raphaelite and even more so, the Symbolists and Decadents, objects and settings are symbols of other things or ideas. The paintings are a way of pointing to experiences that cannot be shown or heard, the spiritual realm if you will. It appeals to both my spiritual and perverse imaginations. There are many artists which have been considered Pre-Raphaelite who actually painted much later, such as John William Waterhouse, Gustave Moreau, These painters often used ancient myths and medieval tales as source material. Carl Jung would have said they were giving form to the universal archetypes of the collective unconscious. Freud would have said these paintings were a way of giving expression to their overflowing libido. They could both be right. All I know is that I can stare at these paintings for hours, lost in a reverie. For me, the experience is akin to the transformation of the senses which takes place when you fall in love. Everything becomes transformed, there is a special quality to the light, and the colors are magnificent when you are in love. I think that experience lies at the heart of pre-Raphaelite paintings. Then add a little Lord Byron, Shelley, or Yeats, and it is a veritable orgy of Romanticism. Perfect for young lovers!

Millais “Autumn Leaves” 1856

 Check out Proserpine by Rossetti above, do you see the hair? Rossetti could depict such rich, lush, hair better than anyone! You feel as though you could reach out and stroke her thick lovely hair. And the look within those dark eyes cannot be fully expressed. It depicts someone in deep thought, tinged with melancholy, and yet it is relatively subtle compared to the melodramatic style of the Symbolists. That is a useful distinction between the pre-Raphaelite and Symbolist. The Symbolist creates pure icons, divorced from that super realistic style of the pre-Raphaelite. The pre-Raphaelite uses nature itself to create that spiritual tipping point into blissful or perhaps mournful reverie. We have all had those pre-Raphaelite moments if you will, within our daily lives. Moments which are indelibly pressed into our consciousness. John Everett Millais, on the left, depicts what is for me an incredibly poignant scene, but not maudlin such as you might find in a Norman Rockwell print of the same kind of scene. Once again the effect is subtle but powerful. The light in this painting evokes autumn perfectly, and the expressions on the girl’s faces evoke a slight melancholy, but also pleasure. There is a hint of sadness even in the landscape. This is how autumn feels. Millais is a bit more conventional, not resorting to the hyper realism of Rossetti. You might say Millais preferred using more of a soft focus in his work. But I still can’t get over the exquisite use of color! One good thing about the internet age is the fact that you have entire art galleries at your fingertips. Of course it isn’t the same as having the paintings right in front of you, but at least you can access vast archives of paintings. I would encourage you to google these artists and see what you can find. Your computer monitor can serve as an imaginary light table bringing those paintings to life!

William Holman Hunt: Isabella and the pot of basil 1868

 Finally, for this post, I include one of the many wonderful paintings by William Holman Hunt. Look at the richness of detail and the sensual colors. It convinces me that ancient light was filled with delight. The face is a real face. This could easily be a HD digital photograph, the attention to strict realism is that good. Hunt’s women are voluptuous and invite lust as well as intellectual appreciation, Pre-Raphaelites delighted in the senses. They wanted us to see what they saw, touch what they touched, and feel what they felt. You feel as though you could reach out and hold that tablecloth in your hands! The pre-Raphaelites were not appreciated in their own time. They became very popular in the nineteen sixties drug culture because this kind of vivid realism and rich sensuality matches well the kind of languid eroticism produced by the ingestion of the best cannabis. I think the hippie subculture could also relate to the spirituality of these paintings. Spiritual eroticism! I suppose that could describe many of the pre-Raphaelite paintings. I will try to post more about the later Symbolist and Decadent schools of painting that owe a substantial debt to the pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood.

What About the Children?

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Children love their bodies, until they are taught not to.

It has come to my attention from many an irate comment, that in my previous post, “A Bottomless World”, I failed to take children into consideration. What about the children? Well, I just gotta tell ya, I’m not worried. Kids are a lot smarter than you think. I seriously doubt that the sight of genitals will warp their impressionable little minds. They are curious too. Keeping sexuality hidden warps their impressionable little minds. Sex should be regarded as a normal, everyday activity. As common as shaking hands. No big deal, ok? And let’s face it! It would make the work of molesters much more difficult. Their intentions would be perfectly clear to everyone concerned. Let’s see those perverts weasel out of that one! Now, I’m not suggesting copulation in the streets. There is still a time and a place which is deemed appropriate. But bottomlessness is a refreshing solution to an age old problem. Personally, I think children would love it. Have you ever seen little kids romping around without their pants on, having a grand old time. Well I have. Kids love their bodies, especially their genitals, until some adult teaches them not to.

Yeah, I know. None of this puts your fears to rest. But here’s the thing. Perversion thrives in a sexually repressive society. If it is dirty, shameful, you will see a pervert smack dab in the middle of that mess! But if it isn’t hidden. If it is above board, out there for all to see, the thrill is gone! Think about it! An exhibitionist gets his or her thrill from the naughtiness of it. Our attitudes about sex make perversion attractive. If the sight of your genitals is treated the same as the sight of any other part of your body, where’s the thrill, the excitement? It becomes ordinary. Who wants to flash when everyone is flashing? Being clothed would become the sick thrill, then. They can’t see my penis, I hope I don’t get caught!

Children don’t start out being afraid of sexuality, but they learn very quickly. Then they develop horrendous notions about sexuality which distorts their sex lives. All this can be avoided with a little common sense. I believe in protecting children from molesters. I am not some hairy palmed freak. I just happen to think that having everyone bottomless won’t make that more likely. Perverts can’t hide in a bottomless world. Think about it! “Oh! I see you’re a little excited there, sir. What’s going on?” Nowhere to hide. Case closed.

What about the children? I think they will be just fine.

A Bottomless World

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You know what I think? I think we should just get over it! Over what you say? Sex. I am so sick of it! Sex alla time ever day! I doe know. Sorry about the accent, but for some reason that just popped out of me. But sex. Why don’t we just get it out of our system. Then we can attend to the really important matters, like which combination of breakfast cereals do I want to eat this morning. So allow me to make a proposal.

Let’s all go bottomless. What do you think? I mean naked is a bit impractical, and topless is too in-your-face, you cannot avoid it. But bottomless is quite the deal. You can ignore it if you just remember not to look down. Seriously though, who is going to do that? We will be checking each other out. It’s only natural. Our curiosity would be satisfied for the most part. Men could still wonder about those breasts. And women have been short changed for too many years, now they would get the full package. Sounds fair to me. Unsanitary? Not really. The people that go on about that old canard are just afraid of sex. They think it is yucky. Ew! get that away from me! Bodily fluids are good for you. Animals understand this. Why can’t we?

I mean in this age of tattoos and body adornment, don’t you think it is a shame to cover our wonderful works of art. Show it off! Oh, nice vagina bracelet you have there! Oh thank you, and your cock ring is awesome! It’s an ice breaker!, a conversation starter. Given the overwhelming preponderance of porn on the internet today, nobody is going to be shocked by this. I mean, let’s be honest. When newscasters joke that they aren’t wearing pants, they really won’t be wearing pants! Won’t this make the delivery of news a lot more interesting?

I like my idea. And I think you do too. You may not admit it publicly, but inside you’re saying, “I’d vote for that!” So let’s do it!

Hold on! Hold on! I can hear some of you saying, you realize, of course, that all of the people we would never ever in a million years want to see bottomless, would go bottomless. Have you ever been to a nude beach? Who do you see there? One hint. You don’t see Jessica Alba. You see all the people you would rather not see naked. So how is this any different?

Excellent point! And if we follow through with this proposal I will be able to see your point even better! I recognize that there will have to be sacrifices. You can’t restrict the bottomlessness to certain people that happen to turn you on. It has to be available to everyone. But think about it! The thrill of seeing those few just might be worth the aggravation of all the rest. Besides, think of the boost to self-esteem. You’re walking along feeling a bit glum and somebody says, “that is an awesome penis you’ve got there!” It brightens up your whole day! I think I have made a good case for it, but naturally (get it? naturally!) I welcome your comments, Just put them down below. (I know how much you like to put things down below, if you get my drift) And remember! It’s all in good fun!