I’ve been receiving messages lately from “friends” on Facebook. I use the quotations not to be disparaging, but because these are people I’ve never met in person. We’ve never broken bread together. We’ve never partied in downtown Asheville. Better to have a life.
Of the many issues people argue over, few perplex me more than the hand-wringing over bare-breasted women and nipples. I mean, come on, people. They’re just breasts. Half of the world’s population has them. There are billions of boobs just yearning to be free. Of course, like I usually do, I decided to weigh in.
And there was an angel. Well, I thought she was an angel. She stood on the opposite side of the crater, looking at me. I mean at me, not the body that I thought of as me, but which wasn’t me. As angels go, I was a little disappointed. She had no ethereal glow.
Screw this. “Dreams and Drop-Ships”. I don’t even know what that means now. It was a good title. Yeah, there were dreams. Of drop-ships. And angels. And demons made of energy. And exploding suns. Of god-like girls slaughtering men by the thousands.
I wasn’t going to post anything about this damned thing, but I’ve found myself thinking about it a lot today. Of course, I’m reluctant, because it’s a sexual thing, and I already stand accused (with some justification) of having an overactive libido.
FROM DA TWITTERS
- Oreo Cookies and Breasts. A Perfect Combination! July 16, 2012
- No Faith-Based Compassion For Raven Litzau June 12, 2008
- Becoming MahaKali March 17, 2013
- We Are All Aly Raisman November 14, 2017
- Testing Hard to Kill December 26, 2016
- I Dreamt of Ganesha December 21, 2016