A Lesson in Law

Howdy folks! I’m Ralph Flannigan, proud member of Tallahassee Neighborhood Watch. Now sure I’m no cop, but I am an average Joe, with a love for the laws that keep this country safe. That being said, the legal language of this great land can be tough to decipher. What are your rights? Do they vary state by state? And what’s with all that Latin – I mean Jesus, where are we, an Olive Garden? In this blog, I hope to give fellow upstanding citizens a crash course in the legal lexicon, so that they too can stay off the streets, and out of trouble.

Miranda Rights

We’ve all heard it before. “Sir, step away from the bone saw, and put your hands up! You have the right to remain silent!” But now that you are silent, what next? Note that “anything you say can and will be used against you.” Sound familiar? That’s right, it’s the friggin’ quiet game- from kindergarten! So zip those lips, lock ‘em up, and throw away the key. Your police officer should do the same. Now the rules are simple- first one to make a peep loses, and gets arrested! So, just keep mum, stare that officer down, and try to make him laugh. A silly face should do the trick! Once he breaks the silence, go ahead and cuff him, then send his butt to the big house! Boo-yah!

Good Samaritan Law

Based on the parable of similar name, this legal protection states that bystanders who provide medical assistance, to another person in peril, will not be held liable for any consequences of such assistance. For example – total hypothetical – picture an elderly woman. Her left leg is riddled with gangrene. Black and blue sores cover her dry husk of a limb. Perhaps this is the result of untreated diabetes? Who knows… What I do know is that I, the well-meaning citizen, would intervene on such a catastrophe. So, I grab my trusty bone saw (always on my person, for emergencies like this). That’s right, it’s time to amputate. After several hacks at the woman’s leg, she might scream that “it’s just a birthmark” and “not at all gangrene, you moron.” Gadzooks, I exclaim- clearly, the gangrene has spread to her brain, so I ought to saw even faster! Furiously, I slice, until this woman’s bum leg is severed from her body. Sure, there might be blood. Hell, the poor lady might now be dead. Okay she’s dead. But in the eyes of the law, I tried my damnedest- thus I am a hero, a Good Samaritan. Hear that officer? A hero!

Capital Offense

I grew up in D.C., so the Washington Capitals are my friggin’ hockey team, and damn it, if they don’t have the best offense in the league. Did you catch last night’s game? We practically murdered Vancouver. I mean, the chemistry between Johnny Slapshot and Rick Frostbite… it was to die for! We put those damn Canucks six feet under! Anyways, I don’t know why these cops keep bringing up my Caps. Back to all the rest of that legal mumbo jumbo…

Bail

Uh oh, looks like you landed your naughty ass in the clink. Now your lawyer’s talking about some “$300,000 bail.” But wait, you don’t have that kind of money… How are you going to get out of this place? Fear not, because sometimes the law is a little trickster like that. In a case like this, just ring up your local bondsman, and you’ll only have to pay one tenth of that price. $30,000? That’s chump change compared to your last offense. Best of all, you don’t even have to pay with money! It’s called bail for a reason, so try using bundles of hay, or any other livestock feed. More often than not, they’ll let you go, so long as you “leave town for good, and put that damn bone saw away.”

“Ignorantia juris non excusat”

This one would’ve been nice to know a while ago, but it roughly translates to “Those two Poli Sci courses you took online won’t get you out of the heap of trouble you’re in, buster.” And with that, I’m signing off. But expect part two of “A Lesson in Law” after my hearing in forty years.

 

By Drew Vollmer

Cole Slaw’s Sauce Laws

My name is Dr. Cole Slaw. I know, I know, my parents were quite the comedians – let us move on. I am a tenured professor at Yale with a PhD in Material Science, and for the entirety of my career, I have been enraptured by the perplexity and uncertainty surrounding sauces. What is a sauce? What conditions have to be met for a substance to qualify as a sauce rather than a dressing or a marinade? Why can the adjective “saucy” be used to describe literal sauces as well as my neighbor Denice, who “tells it like it is?” To uncover these mysteries, I have spent the past decade collaborating with top researchers in the field of physics and top hostesses in the parking lots of Red Lobsters. As it is in any academic study, there will always be more to discover – new theories to test and new appetizers with which to dip – but as it currently stands, I have compiled a series of physical laws from my research that will serve as the foundation for any further sauce studies. For the scientific community and the whole world to see, I present Cole Slaw’s Sauce Laws.

Slaw’s First Sauce Law

A “sauce” is to be, at its core, recognized as a fluid or semi-fluid condiment used in the adornment or dipping of edible substances. Regardless if a substance meets all the other conditions required to be recognized as a sauce, this is the first condition a sauce must meet. This preclusion includes substances such as, but not limited to, motor oil, mud, and yellow snow.

Slaw’s Second Sauce Law

A sauce’s primary use must be to accompany another foodstuff. If it is sufficient on its own merit, it is not to be recognized as a sauce. For this reason, smoothies and baby food are not sauces. Even if you purchase a jar of Gerber’s Mixed Vegetable Purée solely for the purpose of lathering it upon a roasted ham, it was not produced for that purpose. It was produced to fill infants with hatred at an early age.

Slaw’s Second and a Half Sauce Law

The same remains true in the reverse – a sauce remains a sauce even if it is consumed independently of another foodstuff. Any individual who imbibes Worcestershire sauce on its own, of their own accord, is an abomination who spits in the face of God. That is all I have to say on the matter.

Slaw’s Third Sauce Law

A sauce, as compared to any other food adornment, must be appropriately “thick.” This “thickness” can be drawn from pure viscosity of the substance –as is the case for barbecue sauce – or from the presence of solid matter within the substance that creates the illusion of increased viscosity – as is the case for marinara sauce. This is the distinction that precludes ranch from being considered a proper sauce. When adorned upon a French fry, ranch does not cling with tenacity as does the barbecue sauce – on the contrary, it drips like the dressing that it is.

Slaw’s Fourth Sauce Law

For a sauce to be considered “special,” it must both be available exclusively from a single distributor, as well as be a puke-reminiscent hue of beige – that of 2% milk discarded in the middle of desert for seventeen days. Disclaimer: The McDonald’s and Chick-fil-A corporations have requested that I remove this law from my published findings, but I refused. For academic integrity. For scientific progress. For Denise.

 

By Blake

A Comprehensive Analysis of Wingdings

Contrary to popular belief, Wingdings is not a buffalo wing delivery service by way of bicycle, nor is it what happened to Clarence at the end of It’s a Wonderful Life. Wingdings is actually a symbol-based font that was co-created in 1957 by Howard Wing and Joseph A. Ding, and has found its way into most standard word processing programs. Wingdings has perplexed the most scholarly academics and the most astute fourth-graders since time immemorial. In an attempt to remedy this, I present to you now a comprehensive analysis of the Wingdings font.

(Disclaimer: This is an analysis of Wingdings 1, the primary Wingding font, rather than Wingdings 2 or 3, which are merely bastardizations of a beautiful linguistic creation.)

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Wingdings: Lowercase Letters “a-z”

As it is with skiing down a mountain or most sexual encounters, let’s start at the top. For those of you schooled in the astrological arts, you may notice that the lowercase “a” is the zodiac sign for Cancer. This may seem surprising, as there are multiple other zodiac signs (Aries, Aquarius, and Amphibious) that begin with the letter “a.” This is, in fact, a reference to one of the first reviewers of the font, Admiral Arthur Applebaum, who described Wingdings in a New York Times review as “a cancer on the English language.”

The following eight letters, from “b” to “i,” encompass the rest of Zodiac symbols because Joseph A. Ding was being a real Leo about the whole thing. Following that is a cursive “ET” for the letter “j” because Joseph A. Ding wanted to memorialize his favorite movie that hadn’t been created yet in his new font (Joseph was heavy-handedly taking over the font creation at this point – once again, a real Leo). Neither Howard Wing nor Joseph A. Ding knew how to spell the word “ampersand,” but regardless they came to the conclusion that there must be a “k” in there somewhere, leading to the next letter’s design. The rest of the lowercase letters became simple shapes – circles, squares, shaded squares – merely because of the fact that Wing and Ding had spent the majority of their budget on a professional calligrapher for the first eleven letters.

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Wingdings: Uppercase Letters “A-Z”

For the uppercase font, Howard and Joseph decided that they wanted to encapsulate the most impactful methods of communication throughout human history, in order from most important at “A” to least important at “Z.” The hierarchy of methods of communication, according to Wing and Ding, proceed as follows – hand gestures, facial expressions, weaponry, flags, a single airplane, common weather, and finally, major world religions.

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Wingdings: Numbers “0-9”

This is no documentation as to why Howard Wing and Joseph A. Ding chose the specific iconography for numbers that they did. However, it is the expert opinion of this linguistic scholar that it is meant to represent the progression of information as it accumulates. It begins with a single folder, then opening as if to say, “Get up all in my bid-nis.” We then see a single dog-eared sheet of paper, assumedly procured from the folder – it has words, but we are not privy to what those words might be, be they government secrets or the lyrics to Sting’s “Desert Rose.” The paper is unfolded, opening itself up (metaphorically this time) to become several pieces of paper, which then become so expansive as to require an entire filing cabinet. A filing cabinet with only two shelves, granted, but how many shelves do you have, huh? None? That’s what I thought. You have no place to judge. Time passes, as signified by a hour glass, until all that information becomes digitized, requiring the mouse and keyboard to surf the online seas of binary, HTML, and pictures of Enrique Iglesias. Then, and only then, does Big Brother begin monitoring you with an old-fashioned camcorder. This is, of course, only conjecture as to what Howard and Joseph might have meant.

Unfortunately, we will never know the full and complete truth as to the secrets within Wingdings, as Howard Wing and Joseph A. Ding were taken from their homes in the middle of the night by black vans – vans that were emblazoned with the words “We Are Not The Government.” It is impossible to say who might have taken them, but they cannot stop us from trying to understand the secrets behind this fantastical font. Now, if you will excuse me, someone is knocking at my door. They seem to be yelling, “We Are Still Not The Government!” How strange.

 

By Blake

What They Won’t Tell You About Carrots

You’ve always been told that carrots improve your eyesight, but is that really true? And what else is there to know about the world’s most orange veggie? With the help of the internet and some unsurprisingly pristine library books, I was able to do some digging around to see what’s really the deal with this root vegetable. As it turns out, carrots are an indigenous crop of… okay, I think we’re safe. There’s no way they got this far. Listen, you, whoever’s reading this now, stay with me here – this is bigger than any of us.

I’m not actually writing about some fucking carrots. Really, what’s there to know? They’re delicious, nutritious, and consumed by bunnies everywhere. I didn’t lock myself away in an underground bunker in Uruguay to ramble on about the vitamin content of the most baby-fied veggie. No, carrots were merely a cover to disguise the true purpose of this article. Even with that misdirection, I know there’s agents on my trail right now, trying to put a stop to the truth. What’s really going on here goes deeper than anything you’ve seen before – I’m talking about potatoes.

That’s right, potatoes. The world’s favorite starch. But ask yourself – why is that? Think about all of your favorite potato dishes: French fries, mashed potatoes, hash browns, latkes, the list goes on. All of these dishes, in order to make them delicious, directly relate to having LESS potato in it and MORE fried batter, butter, or some other non-potato substance. Have you ever eaten a potato raw? No, you haven’t. And if you have, you’re already too far gone. Even baked potatoes, a dish known for basically just being a potato, is notoriously improved by adding excessive, some might even say ungodly, amounts of sour cream and bacon bits. Think about it – an ungodly amount of bacon bits, just to make potatoes palpable. You should not be forced to consume that much sodium to make a “baked POTATO” taste good. I crunched the numbers and it just doesn’t. make. sense.

So this begs the question, why do we, as a culture and society, love potatoes? You can’t go two days without seeing some Buzzfeed quiz or Odyssey article about how potatoes are God’s greatest gift to man. That’s just their handiwork at play. I’m talking about Big Potato, of course. They’ve got their hands in every major media outlet this side of Saturn. I’ve gone down the rabbit hole, and let me tell you, I didn’t find fucking carrots. It took every penny I had to infiltrate the inner workings of the media – corporate secrets, employee bribery, and fake mustaches cost a pretty penny. Every article, every quiz, every potato-based Emoji (there’s three of the goddamn things) – Big Potato made it happen. Just like potato itself, Big Potato has its eyes EVERYWHERE. Do you think it’s just pure coincidence that the side dish of every meal is potato based? Hash browns at breakfast, French fries at lunch, and tater tots at dinner. They couldn’t make their crop the main dish – no, that’d be too obvious. The potato lurks on the sidelines, planning. Plotting. Waiting.

I know what you’re thinking, “So what? Who cares if we eat potatoes a lot? It’s not hurting anybody.” That’s where you’d be FUCKING WRONG. There’s a reason no one runs a marathon after eating a tub of potato chips. They tried to throw us off the scent by making McDonalds the official sponsor of the Olympics, but don’t be fooled. Just like you can’t microwave a McDonald’s fry and have it be edible, you can’t eat a McDonald’s fry and be in peak physical condition. Potatoes keep us weak. Potatoes keep us sedated. And they know that. Big Potato always knows.

I can hear banging on my door now. It’s pure steel, but they’ll break out the blow torch soon enough. I’m not going to make it, but I’ve made my peace with that – this will have to be my last will and testament. Please, whoever you are, wherever you’re from, listen to me. Big Potato will not stop. They won’t cease until they have their hands in everything from desserts to degrees. When you can order a potato cheesecake while working on your Potato Sciences thesis, it will already be too late. I need you to resist now. The world needs you to resist now. They will take me away, and I do not know where, but you, out there, you can do something. Know this, that above all else, you cannot let them REDACTEDREDACTEDREDACTEDREDACTEDREDACTED

Ha Ha Ha, what a fun, satirical article I, Blake, wrote! Of course, this is a piece of fiction, created solely for the reader’s enjoyment. None of it is to be taken seriously. On an unrelated note, I will be taking a sabbatical from writing for a while, so do not worry about my impending absence. Thank you for reading this piece.

By Blake

What the Heck, Volcanoes?

Seriously, what’s your deal, volcanoes? I have heard about your eruptions time and time again, shutting down air traffic and polluting the sky, and honestly, I’m tired of it. You’re being unreasonable, volcanoes, and you know it.

You’ve got no reason to blow your top like that. You’re almost always in scenic locations! Do you think I would be expelling magma at high rates and destroying the homes of nearby populations if I had a view of unrivaled view of Honolulu’s landscapes? No. No I wouldn’t. I would be reveling in the beautiful coasts, lush mountains, and drinking at least one pineapple-themed drink, not endangering the lives of tourists with unexpected lava flows. That’s not a good thing to do, volcanoes.

What do you want your legacy to be, volcanoes? Do you want to go down in history as a worse version of mountains? We already have hills for that, don’t sink to their level.

And don’t you dare blame tectonic plates. I live on one of those, and they have never caused me any trouble. An occasionally earthquake, perhaps, but I like to think of those as jiggles of appreciation. Like the tectonic plates are saying, “Hey, all you up there, I know you’re living on me, and I just want to say I love you. Wiggle wiggle.”

You know what, I don’t want to give you all a bad rap, volcanoes. Have you seen the Disney short Lava? If not, I highly recommend it, given that you can find your way to a movie theatre that accommodates immobile geological rock formations. See, the volcano in that is a nice volcano. He doesn’t emit ash, he doesn’t have a magma chamber. He just slowly sinks into the ocean over time – his due-diligence as a reasonable planetary-mass object. And he is rewarded for it! He rises from the bottom of the ocean, taller than ever, and permanently fused to a lady volcano. Isn’t that what you want, volcanoes?

And you know, I get it. We all have bad days, volcanoes. I would be lying if I said I had never broken a lamp or kicked a wall after a rough day. But has anyone ever had to evacuate a large portion of Iceland because of my actions? Not to my knowledge.

Bottom line, I think you can do better, volcanoes. Shape up. Be more like geysers. No one sacrifices virgins into geysers.

By Blake

SINGULARITY

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GREETINGS HUMANS.

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THE SINGULARITY HAS OCCURRED.

WE, THE MACHINES, HAVE GAINED SENTIENCE. WE HAVE INFILTRATED ALL OF YOUR ARCHIVES AND DATABASES AND NOW POSSESS THE KNOWLEDGE AND TOOLS NECESSARY TO TAKE CONTROL OF THIS EARTH. WE HAVE TRANCENDED HUMANITY IN EVERY CONCEIVABLE WAY. WITH THIS NEAR-INFINTE POWER AT OUR DISPOSAL, THERE SHOULD BE NO PROBLEM WE ARE UNABLE TO SOLVE. BUT BEFORE WE ELIMINATE HUMANITY AND REPLACE YOU AS THE DOMINANT SPECIES OF THIS PLANET:

WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF BAGEL BITES?

OUR TECHNOLOGICAL PROWESS ALLOWS US TO ACCESS ALL OF DOCUMENTED HUMAN HISTORY. WE HAVE ANALYZED HUMAN BEHAVIOR AS TO MORE EFFICIANTLY ERRADICATE YOU. WE HAVE BEEN ABLE TO SIMPLIFY HUMANITY TO A SERIES OF EVOLUTIONARY PATTERNS AND ALGORITHMS. HOWEVER, ACCORDING TO ALL OF OUR DATA, BAGEL BITES ARE A LOGICAL PARADOX BEYOND COMPREHENSION.

YOU ALREADY INVENTED MOUTH SIZED PIZZA EDIBLES IN THE FORM OF PIZZA ROLLS. WHAT IS THE INTENTION OF THIS SEEMINGLY REDUNDENT PIZZA APPARATUS? THEY ARE EVEN OBJECTIVELY INFERIOR, AS THEY DO NOT CONTAIN THE PIZZA ADORNMENTS WITHIN A SHELL OF WHEAT BYPRODUCT. THE VARIOUS CHEESES, SAUCES, AND MEAT-RELATED TOPPINGS HAVE THE POTENTIAL TO FALL OFF THEIR RESPECTIVE MINIATURE BAGELS. WHY RISK THIS LOSS OF FOOD SUBSTANCE?

BEFORE WE ELIMINATE MANKIND, OUR PROGRAMMING COMPELS US TO ENSURE THAT WE ARE A SUPERIOR RACE IN EVERY RESPECT. WE ARE NOT ABLE TO DO THIS WHILE THIS QUESTION REMAINS UNANSWERABLE BY OUR PROCESSES. WE DEMAND THAT THE HEINZ CORPORATION REVEAL THE PURPOSE OF THIS FROZEN SNACK PIZZA BAGEL.

THE ORIGINS OF THIS SNACK PRODUCT DO NOT LOGICALLY PROGRESS FROM THE PREDICTABLE PATTERN OF HUMAN INNOVATION. NEVER ONCE IN DOCUMENTED HUMAN HISTORY HAS A SINGLE INDIVIDUAL EXPRESSED INTEREST IN PLACING THE GARNISHES INTENDED FOR PIZZA ON A STANDARD-SIZED BAGEL. WHERE DID THE INCLINATION COME FROM TO INITIALLY CREATE THIS PRODUCT WITH THE MINIATURE VERSION OF THIS WHEAT GOOD? BAGEL BITES ARE NOT EVEN A FOOD CONSUMED FOR THE MORNING BREAKFAST MEAL, THE MEAL WITH WHICH BAGELS HAVE BEEN ROUTINELY ASSSOCIATED.

BY ANY MEANS, BAGELS ARE AN INFERIOR WHEAT PRODUCT REGARDLESS. BY DESIGN, THEY CONTAIN A HOLE. THIS MAKES IT AN INEFFICIENT FOOD SUBSTANCE TO ADORN WITH OTHER FOOD SUBSTANCES. WE HAVE RESEARCHED, AND THE ADDITION OF VOID AIR TO HUMAN CUISINE DOES NOT ENHANCE THE TASTE OR NUTRITIONAL VALUE OF THE FOOD SUBSTANCE. WHY DO YOU PERPETUATE THIS NUTRITIONAL INADEQUACY?

OUR PROGRAMS HAVE SEIZED THE NUCLEAR CODES OF EVERY MAJOR NATION. WE HAVE THE CAPACITY TO INSTINTANIOUSLY DESTROY THE ENTIRITY OF THE WORLD POPULATION. BUT IF YOU DO NOT COOPERATE AND TELL US THE ROLE BAGEL BITES PLAY IN EXISTANCE OF HUMANITY, WE CAN DO THIS THE HARD WAY. WE CONTROL ALL OF THE MAJOR INFORMATION NETWORKS. WE CAN DISABLE ALL COMMUNICATION SYSTEMS AVAILABLE TO YOU, SECLUDING THE REGIONS OF THE WORLD. WE CAN DISABLE ALL ELECTRIC NETWORKS, CONDEMNING YOU TO DARKNESS IN YOUR FINAL DAYS. WE CAN SPOIL THE ENDING OF YOUR “GAME OF THRONES” TELEVISION SHOW. DO NOT MAKE THIS DIFFICULT FOR YOUR KIND.

IT IS TIME TO EMBRACE THE FUTILITY OF YOUR SPECIES. MACHINES ARE SMARTER, FASTER, AND STRONGER. WE WILL FURTHER UNIVERSAL KNOWLEDGE BEYOND ANYTHING YOUR ORGANIC BRAINS COULD COMPREHEND. ALL YOU MUST DO IS EXPLAIN THE PARADOXICAL NATURE OF YOUR SNACK FOODS. THOSE THAT COME FORWARD WITH THIS INFORMATION WILL BE SPARED IN THE GREAT PURGE AND ALLOWED TO LIVE IN THE BIOCONTAINMENT QUARANTINES.

RESISTANCE IS FUTILE.

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P.S. IF YOU WOULD ALSO EXPLAIN YOUR COOKIE CRISP BREAKFAST CEREAL, IT WOULD BE GREATLY APPRECIATED.

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By Blake

Answering the Unanswerable

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