It’s a Sunday morning. I’m sitting in a local coffee shop, writing my latest piece on my laptop and listening to the hustle and bustle of daily life. Baristas making frappuccinos, friends chatting about the previous night’s escapades, pretentious assholes typing on their laptops, the usual. In the midst of all of this, a question hangs over my head. A question of the human condition, of considerable depth and nuance, quarreled over ad infinitum, as any good question is. Now, in a situation such as this, can there really be a right answer? Just to clarify, that wasn’t the question, just a personal mulling about the question actually in consideration. Sorry about the confusion. Some questions, no matter how often they are pondered and contemplated, don’t have a right answer. Whether it’s a matter of opinion, or simply to complex for us to understand, sometimes the truth is just out of reach. But just because that can be the case, doesn’t mean it always is; we can’t allow the ambiguity of some questions stops us from trying to answer the ones we can.In light of this, I think I finally have an answer to the truly unanswerable question: Boobs or Butts?

That’s right. It’s the eternal struggle. Boobs versus butts. Tits versus asses. Bazoombas versus badonkadonks. This question has been debated since the dawn of objectifying women, i.e. the dawn of time. As a straight white man, one of my many serious struggles is consistently being asked, “What do guys like more, boobs or butts?” Now, the answer to that question is entirely in personal preference. Some guys like a little more junk in the trunk, like my station wagon. Others are all about the junk in the front, like my station wagon (Note: If anyone is looking to purchase a ’76 Dodge Monaco, call me at 325-368-6237). What I’m here to put to rest, once and for all, is what is the RIGHT answer when choosing between the front butt and the more primary butt. After constant deliberation, a pilgrimage on the Himalayas, and a citation for climbing the Himalayas without a permit, here’s the verdict — Boobs over butt.

This is not only anatomically correct, but also the final word on this argument. As a disclaimer, I am not expressing my personal opinion on the matter; what I’m delivering here are the facts, confirmed by professionals. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “Blake, who on Earth has the authority and knowledge to make this conclusive call?” I’ll tell you who – the Lord. Stick with me here. Trust me, I would have gone the scientific route if I could, but our evolution as a species has been accompanied by expansion of both the female bust and waist. Thanks a lot, Science. So instead, it’s time to consult the Lord Almighty on boobies and booties, and guess what – God’s a boob man. Let’s delve into this.

Proverbs. A book of the Old Testament of the Christian Bible, most known for it’s wack-ass metaphors and prevalence in Instagram captions. This book was written by Solomon, who was bestowed immense wisdom by God for being a selfless king, making him the wisest man to ever exist – past, present, and future. Basically, he was as wise as Morgan Freeman sounds, so he knew his shit. He opens the book talking about fidelity and marriage, and in it, he says this in Proverbs 5:19 – “May her breasts satisfy you always, and may you always be captivated by her love.” You don’t see any wisemen writing verses about relishing a fine keister. And this isn’t merely one translation, it’s consistent across the board – “may her breasts satisfy you, may her beasts fill you with delight, let her breasts satisfy thee,” it goes on. There is one translation that says something about an “affectionate mountain goat,” but I’d rather call that one a fluke.

So there, the wisest man in existence, an emissary of the Most High himself, is all ‘bout them titties. If one instance is not enough, let’s look at King David, the man after God’s own heart. He spent his entire life following God’s will; fighting Goliath, leading the Israelites into battle, taking the helm of a nation, and running through the streets naked (long story). 2 Samuel tells the story of Bathsheba, a woman who led David astray when he saw her incomparable beauty. How did he see it, you ask? She was bathing on her rooftop (as all women do, I assume). Now, unless she was bathing ostrich-style, head underwater and endangered rump raised, we all now exactly what milk-producing mounds David saw that brought him down from the path of righteousness. This is the man who put his life on the line several times in the name of the Lord, but with the cards on the table, it was mammaries that made this man merge with the malevolent. Would a firm behind have had the same effect? We may never know, as King David is probably dead. Regardless, we know it was a game of peek-a-boob that derailed the righteous king, not follow the caboose, giving hooters the leg up once again. We can conclusively say, as supported by the Alpha and the Omega, that tatas beat tushes for sure. Sir. Sir.

“SIR!” I hear yelled in my direction, and I regain my composure. A barista is standing in front of my table, and apparently not happy about it. “Sir, you’ve been staring at my chest for the past ten minutes,” she says sternly. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Sorry,” I reply. “Just… deep in thought.”

By Blake

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