In a cultureless society, the idea of a female being a walking "vessel" is supposed to be beside the point.
Yet, in an era of "hooking up" and fashion dictates that involve the female form as an anatomical
diagram, the female as receptacle is so underlined as to be a gigantic exclamation point
next to the suddenly obvious erasure of the male in fashion and society as a walking
genetic material transfer device. I mean, look at the pants!
On the one hand, you have the girls wearing shorts so tight you can tell
what religion they are, and on the other, you have the boys wearing pants so loose
that a couple or four little people could walk along inside and no one be the wiser.

What is more sexless than the inability to tell what sex the wearer is without
checking the upper torso for bumps? Not that that would help in many instances,
what with heroin chic still crawling along right next to the celebration of the "full-figured" woman, who is,
in many stupid cases, wearing the same stupid rags as the walking dead, complete with butt floss, shrink wrap jeans and baby doll t-shirts.

Sex is everywhere. You can't go to church without seeing young women who are pregnant
standing next to their skinny, supposedly virginal, sisters, or other young women who are not
pregnant, but are zaftig enough to look it and wearing clothing that makes you wonder
... but you are not allowed to ask. Or even think about it.

NO SEX TIL MARRIAGE is the message among the, uh, message-mouthers.
Never mind that the sunday schools are taking up collections for unmarried mothers or recently
divorced pregnant girls and women, or that various bright lights in the church
heirarchy are supporting daughters who chose to allow their boyfriends sow wild oats before
marriage, before graduating high school, before getting the driver's license... and whom chose to "keep the baby" with the inspiration and assistence of her parents, rather than engage in any of those nasty, indulgent and decadent social practices that would bury the whole "unfortunate" incident.


Culture, fashion and stupidity are such that you are not supposed to "stare" at some of the obviously "on display" females running around with their primary and secondary characteristics so well defined or exposed that National Geographic Magazine could do an issue on just three of them.
You are also not supposed to mention, notice or have an opinion on the foot-tetishist's dream, the flip-flop and sandal craze, the backless boudoir slides, the sports mules, the brightly coloured toe-nail varnishes, the obvious innuendo of the multiple
cleavages" of the toes and the intimacy of the arch of the foot and the protuberant toes themselves, with the little ones so vestigial as to be merely decorative. It's a non-topic unless you happen to be one of those addicted to this madness, conversing with another addict.

Not to be too prudish about it, but a few decades ago, this state of affairs would have been a boulevardier's pruriency on the hoof.

What about those stupid "thongs", with their itty-bitty strings peeking up from the shorts and jeans, riding on hips that barely merit the name?
They are just begging to be removed and yet we are not allowed to think about that, because of the presumed "innocence" of the wearer. You are not allowed to be judgemental about what a person wears anymore. They could be as innocent as a lamb, yet dressed like their favorite manga character. We must not make assumptions based on the square footage of the epidermis exposed or the strategic nature of the exposure. We can only truly learn what a person is like, inside, by being around them for a long time, and even then we cannot judge, because not only have we wasted our time on someone who dresses like that, but we have learned that if they didn't have a fashion trend to follow, they wouldn't have any clues...about anything. That is, if they would have anything to do with anyone outside their ageist clique in the first place.

The basic instincts of life are survival and reproduction. The basic instincts of stupid life are

herd activities and mindless displays of plumage that serve no defensive or reproductive function.

A brain dead society teaches that conformist "individuality" is a good thing and that "sexuality" is only to be thought of in tightly compartmented boxes of intent, artistic expression and highly focused commercialism.

Incest is DISGUSTING, yet dolling up your child like Jean Benet is okay.

Child pornography is BAD, yet taking your child shopping so she can walk around town looking like a crack whore is okay.

An adult propositioning an underage child is REALLY BAD, yet sitting at a table in the mall

and watching young girls display their bodies in accentuated anatomical focus is okay, as

long as you don't stare too long or wear a raincoat on a sunny day.


Sex can get you killed. You can "hook up" with the wrong person. You can look at the wrong girl.

You can find someone you really like and get together with them in the hopes of having a life
and a family and find out that they've given you the "gift that keeps on giving", an STD...
that they got from having some "relationships" that are "past history" and none of your business.

Sex is death. Most of the spermies that race for the targeted egg die. The spermy that does make
it commits suicide, giving over its essence to the greater good.

For every egg that is fertilized, hundreds decay, having come up in the rotation, sat and
waited for the three-alarmer that didn't come, and retired to become part of the detritus
of menstruation, the periodic remodeling of the administration, to make room for an equally hopeful successor.

There is an odd joke of physiology that says that the vagina is the only muscle that doesn't get old.

If the carrier of the vagina gets old, or wasn't that attractive to begin with, then that muscle doesn't get to be exercised much, with obvious exceptions that the Taliban and the Southern Baptist
Convention don't want you to think about.
Not to beat this thing to death, but the vagina is a very much
more interesting organ than the penis (which looks like a brussel sprout with an attitude) and it
is supremely more well-designed and stylish than any of the rags that are sold to cover it, sorry,
Prada, apologies, Versace.
Fashion doesn't know what to do with the vagina or the vulva...

Outside of the stupid thong and the camel toe fetish, which goes back to that silly seventies
S and M thing of wearing jeans so tight that your cervix looks like a nose... a fashion element that still hasn't gasped it's last in my part of the world, or in Vogue's, apparently. Add those
hobbledy-gait skin-tight denim sausage skins to spaghetti-strap high-heeled sandals, and
you've got a woman (or a truly acrobatic tranny) who is actually visually bleating to the world

that she doesn't mind being handicapped by her own fashion sense, that she doesn't mind
walking around with her skinny butt protubing like a Hottentot, that she doesn't mind
having her breasts thrust toward her chin like a Barbie doll,

that she doesn't mind every male, pre-, mid- or post-pubescent, wondering what she's really like in bed.

And those males, staring her down like snipers at Stalingrad, I don't think they are wondering about her usefulness as breeding stock.

I don't think they are wondering what the children would look like, or whether she can cook.


Let's make the image even worser by putting this woman with a child, say a toddler.
Then it's obvious that someone kept her occupied long enough to make her conceive,

and that once she pumped out the pup, she didn't think enough of herself or her child
to stop dressing like a walking vacancy sign and start dressing like the care-giver for an inquisitive and active rugrat. I have seen these travesties of parenthood dress their children in

cross-trainers and active wear while they themselves are so hobbled by their fashionista masochist gear that they tap like rabid poodles down the mall corridor, screeching at the little
whirlwind of humanity to "Come back here!"

And then they want to half-euthanize the active youth with Ritalin or Adderall, because
the soporific mommy can't handle the "hyperactive" child. Stupidity, thy name is sloth.


If you are going to give birth, you need to at least spend half as much money and brain power on raising the child

as you did on attracting the walking turkey baster that got you pregnant.

It doesn't make any sense to increase the population with one more statistic if you

are not going to think about what it needs, wants or should be.

Of course, if you can't be bothered to think about what drives your greed and overwhelming

narcissisim, then it doesn't much matter what happens, because the "society" that made

it possible for you to become a walking billboard for stupidity will guide your child for you...

probably down the same path.