Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Scouting expedition
Scout has recently been in the news for walking around topless in New York City. She was protesting against Instagram for deleting her account after she posted a couple of booby pictures. To justify her action, she wrote an article on a girlie website complaining that her nipples were the victims of sexual discrimination:
“To me, nipples seem to be at the very heart of the issue,” she explained. “In the 1930s, men’s nipples were just as provocative, shameful, and taboo as women’s are now, and men were protesting in much the same way.”
When I told the manager of the safari camp about her campaign, he looked at the picture of her above and said:
“She has my full support. I’d rather look at her tits than her face.”
“It’s a pity you’re not able to say that to her in person,” I remarked. “I’m sure she’d thank you warmly before kicking you in the nuts.”
Even if women win the right to denude their dumplings, I doubt social attitudes will change in the way Scout wants. A woman’s breasts cannot be desexualised because they resemble the buttocks too closely. From a relatively young age, boys learn that staring at naked bosom-flesh is a forbidden treat to be savoured. As they mature into manhood, they find that persuading a woman to take off her bra is a labour worthy of Hercules. If ladies start flaunting their jahoobies willy-nilly, it would devalue the whole experience. Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas if it were celebrated every day.
A possible compromise would involve giving Scout the right to bare her breasts whenever and wherever she wanted, without making it a universal right. If I were the mayor of New York, I would present her with a booby permit in a public ceremony in Central Park. The event would surely be a major tourist attraction – I foresee people cancelling their holidays to Rio and Acapulco to watch it. It might also help to get Scout’s show business career off the ground. Having a famous pair of hooters never hindered Dolly Parton in her dizzy rise to the top of the telegraph pole.
As for Instagram, they showed what cowardly pimps they are when a rumour got out that Rihanna’s page had been deleted after she put up some racy pictures of herself. They promptly issued a denial and the page mysteriously reappeared. Maybe a decision taken by a low-level employee had been hastily reversed to avoid annoying all the dirty old lechers who ogle her pictures with their tongues hanging out. The lesson for Scout is clear: if your breasts become money-making assets, there’ll be no shortage of flunkies who'll milk them for you.
Labels: Breasts, Instagram, jahoobies, Rihanna, Scout Willis, sexism
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Sexiest woman on the planet
The pop singer Shakira has announced that her fellow pop singer Rihanna is “the sexiest woman on the planet”. She formulated this opinion after spending time with Rihanna on a musical collaboration, which she described as “utopia”. Unfortunately, she made no mention of any Sapphic encounter that would have boosted the credibility of her claim. My suspicion is that Shakira is a bi-curious woman who lacks the nerve to do any serious carpet-munching. Shame on her for being such a poseur and fraud.
According to the Roman church, the sexiest woman alive is a she-devil, although she’s not technically “on the planet” until she gets sent up from Hell. Her mission on Earth is to obtain the soul of an arrogant man – typically some old codger of a professor who hasn’t got laid for the past 20 years. Wrongly believing that his brain is too big for any woman to give him the horn, he invites the succubus into his study and listens to her talk dirty in iambic pentameter. This gives him the shakes and causes him to pant heavily. Pretty soon, he is pricking his forearm with a quill and signing his name in blood on a parchment, giving his soul to the Devil in return for unlimited nuzzling rights.
The Catholic Church, however, cannot be trusted on such matters. It has a vested interest in making people believe that sex is satanic, so they confess all their sins to a masturbating priest. I have never met a she-devil (other than in my dreams), but I doubt they’re particularly sexy, what with the lack of cosmetics and bathing facilities in Hell. How would they wash their hair? Would they even have hair when it’s constantly getting singed? These are the questions that the church wants to sweep under the carpet.
A more reliable source of information about the Devil and his minions is the modern Satanist movement. The New York Satanic Temple has recently unveiled the design of a statue of Satan it wants to place outside the Oklahoma state capitol building. They envisage a seven-foot effigy of their cloven-hoofed Lord sitting on a throne:
“The statue will serve as a beacon calling for compassion and empathy among all living creatures,” said temple spokesman Lucien Greaves. “It will also have a functional purpose as a chair where people of all ages may sit on the lap of Satan for inspiration and contemplation.”
They make it sound quite appealing, but I have a couple of queries. The first issue is plagiarism. Isn’t their proposed statue a rip-off of the one in the Lincoln Memorial? No one’s going to hold Satan in awe if he reminds them of Abraham Lincoln, whom not even Colonel Sanders and the good ol’ boys thought was a good role model for the Prince of Darkness. The other puzzling point is why Satanists in New York want to erect a statue in Oklahoma, a cowboy state full of possums and raccoons. There must be better places for it than that.
Labels: Colonel Sanders, Rihanna, Sapphic, Satanism, Shakira
Friday, October 26, 2012
Too many vaginas
A correspondent accuses me of being obsessed about Lady Gaga.
“She’s not the only woman in the world, you know,” he quipped. “Why don’t you write something about Rihanna? I’d do her.”
Not knowing who Rihanna was, I asked the chimps to send me her file. It made fascinating reading. It seems she is another singer who has won acclaim by flaunting her talents in stimulating and inventive ways. A couple of years ago she was being hailed as a virtuoso lesbian - “the best fondler ever” according to one of her girlfriends. Now she’s complaining that men won’t ask her out:
“I'm waiting for the man who's ballsy enough to deal with me,” she declared. “And I have too many vaginas around me at this point.”
I’m not surprised that men won’t approach her if she’s surrounded by vaginas. A cordon of coochies is an intimidating barrier for the bravest of men. Harder to penetrate, I would say, than a moat filled with jellyfish and giant squid. I doubt even Sir Lancelot would have attempted to breach it without a siege engine and catapult.
My advice to Rihanna is to make the first move. If a man catches her eye, just whistle him over for a powwow. The best way of attracting a ballsy man is to show him you’re a ballsy woman. To check out his balls you’ve got to get them within reach. It may not be the traditional method of initiating a courtship, but what does tradition matter to a fabulously rich diva with eyes that could hypnotise a snake? The whole point of the feminist revolution was to empower women to do everything that men do, including wearing trousers, pissing upright and making booty calls.
If Rihanna continues to have no luck with men, she might consider visiting the women-only bar that’s just opened in Tokyo. The function of this establishment is to allow women to discuss love and sex in an intimate setting without being interrupted by men eager to add their two cents. The owner of the bar hopes that her customers will shed their inhibitions and exchange tips on self-pleasurement.
“Since most people view female masturbation as something of a mystery or taboo, it is not a usual topic at typical bars,” said Megumi Nakagawa.
I’ve always thought that teaching women how to masturbate was a beautiful and noble activity, on a par with healing the sick and feeding the hungry. Obviously it’s something best done by another woman – I wouldn’t presume to offer lessons myself, even though I’ve watched female gorillas do imaginative things to their nether regions.
The sad thing is that many women are too embarrassed to admit they need help with their fingerwork, much like illiterate people who are too ashamed to attend reading classes. Fortunately, the internet now offers a number of excellent bean-flicking sites that women can peruse in private. My favourite one is called yanks.com – I defy anyone to watch the clips without moaning and sighing in empathy.
Labels: ballsy men, bean-flicking, Rihanna
