Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Breast man

Thank God I don’t have breasts. I mean, besides the fact that they would look extremely odd, no one would ever take me seriously (not that they do now anyway). I feel for you women and your breasts (no pun intended). How difficult it must be to constantly be judged on the size of your tits. Whether you have them or not, they seem to be a hindrance to your endeavors, and to the healthy development of your self esteem. (How vain we are). Unfortunately, they also play an integral part of a man’s initial impression of you. Naturally, we were born with an insuppressible desire to impregnate anything with breasts. (Another reason I’m glad I don’t have them). Consequently, our boob-centric minds are already in conflict between conforming to proper social etiquette and primitive physiological desires before we even engage in conversation with you, putting us at an immediate disadvantage. (It’s difficult to think with a hard on, or pee, of course. Unless you’re in the woods, then it’s not so hard. Ahem.)

We must constantly fight every thing that comes naturally to us, evolutionary behavior that has been ingrained in our brains since the beginning of human existence as a means of survival. On top of that, from the day we’re born, we are taught that they are the source of our nourishment. And for another 9 months or so, the ritual of breastfeeding will serve to reinforce and solidify this instinctual obsession. It is through this maternal bond that we are drawn to the tits, they are our life force.

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