Lately, the public is expected to wear masks as security theater against Covid19. A mask will stop a virus like underwear stops farts, but it is what it is. Fortunately, it’s mostly a nothingburger for anyone who doesn’t have preexisting conditions. Maybe this is a big exercise in seeing how far they can push the public without the public pushing back. If we were ordered to wear banana peels on our heads in the name of secuuuurity, most people would do it.
That said, going into public has become a little different lately. Women are so darn beautiful that they can take my breath away sometimes. As the fellow who wrote in the Carmina Burana put it, “Tibi pulchra facies, sicut solis radies…” It’s all about the pretty face, beauty shining like the sun.
Well, what happens if you can’t see that most lovely feminine face? Then, of necessity, the eyes wander somewhere else. Another notable attribute of ladies if their supremely appealing three dimensionality. Yes, I mean the boobage. From the earliest age, we come programmed to plant our lips atop those womanly peaks. I can wax quite eloquent about the bosom, and how majestic tits are in all their delicious, buxom, yummy, supple, kissable, majestic majesty. If a man doesn’t want to bury his face in a pair of them, then he probably knows the difference between teal and aqua.
Oh, but staring at tits is rude, and sexist! Well, I can’t admire women’s gorgeous faces any more, because they’re all covered over with those stupid masks, so what the hell do I look at other than the sweater puppies? The Covid19 fright peddlers are responsible for the fact that I want to motorboat every pair of ripe melons I see.