That’s The Spirit

In all the frenzy of Chinkvirus panic and the resulting pandemic theater (i.e wearing face condoms which, from all accounts, do little or nothing to actually prevent the spread of the virus, but like the TSA at airports, at least give the appearance of Doing Something ), we have this wonderful example of I-don’t-give-a-fuckitude from someone named Lana Del Rey:

Heheheh… if you’re going to show absolute contempt, then this is the way to do it.

Of course, the uproar has been intense:

Taking to Twitter to share their anger, one person said: ‘I cant belive lana is actually wearing this mask to…..socially interact with people..this is so irresponsible.’
A different fan put: ‘Why is she at an event with a bunch of people wearing a mesh mask??? I love Lana but this is incredibly irresponsible.’
Another follower commented: ‘LANA WEARING A MESH MASK TO AN EVENT FOR HER POETRY WTF So irresponsible.’

…etc. etc. etc.

Me, I’m just chuckling, because you know what’s coming up next, don’t you?

Wait for it…

Government regulations mandating a minimum thread count per inch for cloth face masks!

You heard it here first.

Teaser

Here’s an easy one. We all know that this pic of some Miss Universe (1952) contestants contains something “wrong”.  But time yourself to see how long it takes you to discover it.

Start counting the seconds… now.

Lovely, aren’t they?

First They Came For The Airline Stewardesses

Back in the day when airline flying meant a chance to ogle some beautiful young women in uniform, they were called “stewardesses” or “stews”.  Often, the airlines enforced a “no married women” and even an age limit policy for the stews because, the reasoning went, if the stews had families, they’d be affected by the absense of Mommy while she’d be out of town so often.  So We The Passengers had to put up with stuff like this:

 

Then some asswipe in Big Airline HR decided that this was eeeevil  and anti-womyns  or something, with the result that nowadays, international flights resemble Grab-A-Granny Night at TGI Friday, or Open Bar Night at The Villages.  (No pics, I can’t bear the thought.)

Then last year, Sports Illustrated  took some shit because, and I quote:

“…the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue  doesn’t care about plus-sized women, athletes, or religious models. It cares about staying relevant while also profiting off men buying a magazine to drool over hot women. These silly claims of empowerment through the swimsuit issue cannot change the fact that pages of sexualized women marketed toward men are inherently sexist, insulting, and gross.”

(I even talked about it here.)

Needless to say, the stupids at Sports Illustrated  decided to make their crap magazine yet more crappy, by taking the above criticism to heart for this year’s T&A issue, hence this appalling prospect:

Wait till you see the “plus-sized” (i.e. grossly overweight) entrant… it’ll put you off chocolate cake for life.  (By the way, the granny in the above pic is quite hot, IMO, but if yer gonna put some granny-aged totty in a bikini, why not someone like Sharon Stone, or Stephanie Seymour?)

This modern attitude towards women’s bodies is starting to get to me.  As are the Woke Generation, in toto.

Tiny

I’ve probably said this before, but I love the fact that sports cars of an earlier era were so much smaller than today’s fat-assed, safety-obsessed behemoths.  To whit, the 1995 Fiat Barchetta:

…the 1962 Alfa Romeo Giulietta:

And even by Fiat standards, the little 1950s-era 600 was a weeny:

And here are a few more, all on the same theme:

I blame it all on Mercedes, starting in that same decade:

Still, sometimes you do  need a larger car, for the family:

Or for other reasons:

I miss the old days… [sigh]

Fat Ass

I haven’t ever understood the fascination with a fat ass on a woman.  I know the anthropological reasons in primitive societies — where a wife’s ass was an indicator of her husband’s success, i.e. the better he fed her, the better provider he was — but I never understood the fascination for lard-assed women in the civilized world, and nor do these guys.

I know, I know:  this post is useless without some kind of pictorial underpinning. [sigh]

…and that’s one of the least offensive examples out there.  A single trip to WalMart… well, you know the rest.  (No such pic posted, on humanitarian grounds.)  And in any event, I speak not of the genus walmarta  — those women who become pear-shaped either through diet, childbirth or unfortunate genetic background;  I speak here of those vain modern women who have fat or worse injected into their posteriors to plump them out deliberately.

Anecdotally, a Black (female) friend once told me that Black women have fat asses as a protection against their male counterparts’ predilection for anal sex:  “It keeps them further back” — but I don’t buy that, unless that’s the primal cause for Black men to have larger-than-average dicks, I dunno.  Maybe, in the case of the Kardashian coven, the butt enlargements are simply done as an attractant for their favorite choice of partner (i.e. wealthy Black men).

Whatever.

What I do know is that this female trend towards buttock-amplification is pretty moronic, even when matched against female stupidity such as spending untold dollars on crap like anti-aging creams and potions (none of which work).

And I, for one, am not a huge fan thereof.  In fact, were it not for her superstructure, I’d find Carol Vorderman quite unappealing.

But hey, as the man said:  “A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds.”

Within the bell curve, however, something that would occur more towards the middle — such as that as shown by Diogenes in his weekly series — is far more appealing:

What I also find unattractive, by the way, are those who inhabit the left-hand  side of the same bell curve:  the snake-hipped, flat-buttocked women of the runway model kind (which may also explain my disdain for the average Chinese or Japanese woman, few of whom seem to have any buttocks at all).

As with all things, sufficiency  is what we strive for.

Except when it comes to boobage.  Even I have my limits.