Of Boobs and Bums

Do you remember Jane Russell, Marilyn Monroe, Sophia Loren, Jayne Mansfield…
What did these Hollywood icons have in common?
Great acting skills? High intellect? Early feminists? Humanitarian crusaders?

Not exactly. All these divas were famous in great part for their large bosoms.
In those days, in order to emerge from the pack you had to show some serious cleavage (and maybe you still do).

“A 41-inch bust and a lot of perseverance will get you more than a cup of coffee – a lot more” Jayne Mansfield.

Ever since World War II, America has been titillated by (what else?) tits.
In America bigger has always been better and girls would do almost anything to increase their assets. Insecure young girls are now anxiously waiting for their boobs to grow and begging their parents for breasts implants as a graduation gift.
Many parents oblige.

But lately, there has been a major paradigm shift. The spotlight has shifted from boobs to butts.
The popularity of large breasts has been partially eclipsed by the rise of the booty phenomenon.

CallipygeIn trade mags, celebrities (Jennifer Lopez, Beyonce, Kim Kardashian, etc.) are now routinely featured not necessarily because of their acting skills but more for the size of their caboose.

As seen recently on ABC news, women are now going through risky silicon injections to increase the size of their buttocks.
In their narcissistic pursuit of perfection are women now using a secret algorithm to determine the ideal size of their bottom?

Never mind selfies. Facebook is now full of lightly clad young women taking “butt selfies” that will quickly find their way on the Internet.
Why? Is it for sale?

Will a bigger tush guarantee happiness? Will a Callipygian anatomy bring home the bacon?
I could be wrong, but I always thought that a large IQ had better chances of success than a large bum.

A shapely bottom is always a pleasant sight but young women should realize that the only thing really worth expanding is the mind, and you cannot do this with silicon injections.

To bum, or not to bum, that is the question—

Whether ’tis Nobler in the mind to suffer
The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune,
Or to take Arms against a Sea of boobs…

Bum or brains?
What would Jesus say?

Alain

 

The joy of text

I am a blogger, a guy who writes a blog.

The word “blog“, by the way was coined by a certain Peter Merholz, who broke the word weblog into “we blog” and then “blog” for short.

A blog is a highly personal website unencumbered by censorship (at least in the free world). The blogger pens down personal opinions and publish his work.

A blogger’s philosophy often stems from the French saying “C’est pas parce qu’on a rien à dire qu’il faut fermer sa gueule.” (It is not because you have nothing to say that should keep your trap shut.)
Now you know.

Many blogs concentrate on a specific subject; not me. Not anymore.
I started my own blog about 10 years ago.
Its original purpose was to keep pétanque players informed and interested in that sport.
But pétanque proved too narrow a field.

After a while my blog evolved into a more general format and I started to write about whatever was brewing under my skullcap.
It is my belief that if you keep your mind churning, you are less likely to suffer any form of cognitive impairment.

To become a blogger, you need to have a certain amount of free time, be opinionated, whacky, and above all enjoy writing.

writers blockUnbeknownst to many, writing a blog requires a lot of hard work. A single piece is never completed in a single session (at least for me) and generally goes through several drafts.

When the first draft is completed, I usually let it marinate overnight. In the morning I sample my concoction again and add some spices it if necessary.

The seeds of the second draft often germinate during my sleep. Ideas sneak into my subconscious while I am catching some Zs and it is up to me to transcribe them to paper.
It is not unusual for a writer to get up during the night to jot down the ideas that popped into his mind while he was sleeping.

Many people won’t agree with a blogger’s opinions and say so. It is their prerogative.

But as my friend Bart so ably put it, “Some days you are the dog, some days you are the lamppost.”

Alain

Flash: Francois Moser at Los Vaqueros Reservoir

Trout

Facebook

social_facebook_box_blue_0It seems that nowadays everybody is using or talking about Facebook.
Was I missing something by not being surrounded and coddled by “friends”?

To find out, I decided a few days ago to take the plunge and sign with Zuckerberg’s gang.

Up to now I studiously kept away from all forms of social media. But curiosity got the best of me. So, have mercy on me, I tiptoed in.

Social media are curious. They seem to have an unhealthy interest in who you are.
They want to know when and where you were born, who are your family members, where you went to school, where you work, what relationships you have had… and more.
It seems a bit much. Even my lovers didn’t know that much about me.

If you are not careful (and kids are especially vulnerable) you could become prey to all kinds of shady characters trawling the web for easy marks.
So, if you sign up, don’t volunteer too much personal information. Follow the Geneva Convention protocol and just offer name, serial number and if they insist, your pet’s name. That’s all.

And then I wonder what I am really getting from Facebook besides bragging rights?
And who reads what I am posting? Everybody? My friends? The CIA? Al-Qaeda?
This is not very clear.

When you sign up, Facebook doesn’t provide a comprehensive User Manual.
It seems that the old Trial and Error method is the only way to proceed.
You bumble your way through the system and after repeated attempts you succeed or you give up.

So far, I am ambivalent about the whole thing. Who besides my few true friends would want to know what I did or what I ate for breakfast last Sunday?
And some people claim more than a thousand friends… Are they all interested in your mundane routines?

I might want to bail out but it doesn’t seem to be a slam-dunk.
I queried the Internet about how to unsubscribe from Facebook and the results are not encouraging.
Facebook is like the Church of Scientology or the Mafia. Easy to get in, difficult to get out.

As far as I know, there is no easy way to bow out. You might be able to do it but through a very convoluted way. There is alas no easy way out, no single “unsubscribe” button.
And if I decide to break out, will my former “friends” shun me? Will Zuckerberg’s goons hunt me down?
I don’t know.

I might stay but I am not too keen on letting the world know when I change my underwear or when I break wind.

Will I stick with my “friends”? The jury is still out.
Stay tuned…

Alain