Frank Talk on Showing Your Tits

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," land of the squeeee and home of the rave! From every mountaintop, let Glee Don King!

Can you tell this teacher has a day off school?

On Halloween, my daughter The Spare wrote a lovely blog post for me. It brought tears to my eyes. So I picked a pretty picture of her (tough choice, there are so many in my files) and posted it with her entry.

A male commenter said, "Great post. Show us your tits!"

I removed the comment.

Now I'm having second thoughts. Not because The Spare would ever show her lovely tits to a drooling mass of testosterone, but because said d.m. of t. has his rights to free expression, and if tits is what he wants to see, he ought to be able to make the request.

I don't object if some women want to show off their bodies for the entertainment and (I love this word) titillation of men. It's a broad and wide world, and people should have the right to make these judgments on their own. For some women, it's a lot of fun, showing off the tits. Others (including Spare, Mr. Commenter) would rather haul off and deck you in the balls eyeballs just for asking. It's a personal preference.

In my youthful days in the sun, I earned many a wolf whistle when I walked past a bunch of construction workers or other lusty males. To me it was sort of like a compliment. Sure, they wanted to see my tits and the rest of me too, but that didn't bother me. Now, if they had grabbed me and tried to get a gander at my anatomy, that would have been different. But whistles and cat calls? Hey, to me it just meant I looked good.

Spare hates being cat called and wolf whistled. And as a resident of Philadelphia, she gets an ample amount of it. She thinks men who do that sort of thing are crude and stupid. And she isn't blind to a fine specimen of male, let me tell you ... but she'll be the first to tell you that she gets awkward, not bawdy, in the presence of a prince. Not gonna hear, "Yo! Show us your abs!" from that gal.

Ladies, if you've got tits and want to show them, rock on! If you've got tits and want to show parts of them through corsets, low-cut shirts, or sheers, rock on! If you'd just as soon keep your tits carefully ensconced in a t-shirt, covered by a hoodie, covered by a North Face ski jacket, rock on! Stand up for your rights.

Gentlemen, I realize it is difficult to distinguish which clothed females would show you their tits and which wouldn't. For your own safety in this day of empowered women, err on the side of caution. Especially in Philadelphia, where even the shortest, perkiest, best-groomed young woman can channel the local mentality and blister you with curse words that would make a stevedore cringe.

And at the risk of losing one of my three readers, just know this: If you see tits on this site, they'll be attached to an ancient bored goddess. For fresh and lively ones, take your tastes elsewhere.