What Popped Out – An Essay On Nonsense

Nonsense and beauty have close connections

E.M. Forester

The best conversations I have are the ones that take place with sales attendants in bookstores. It’s the one place I can go, mention a book, and people don’t look at me as if I am mad. Did I mention the fact that the best conversations I have are with female sales attendants at these bookstores? I should have because that might be the point of this blog, or totally pointless to any blog. Let’s see.

I think an average looking girl can appear much more attractive to me if she is smart. Not a smart aleck, but an intelligent female who looks good in tight jeans. Not straying from the topic, but when I say tight I don’t mean vulgar-tight but daintily tight. Yes, there is a distinction between the two levels of tightness, and I prefer level-one tightness – for jeans that is. Level-two does have its appeal, and it all boils down, or up, to personal taste. Some guys are blown away by level-two, and can even briefly lose consciousness on the first sighting. As someone once said, it all depends on how the package is wrapped. That last statement reeks of male sexism, but I first heard it from a liberated female with intense male bashing tendencies.

It would be impossible to write an essay on nonsense without mentioning Mr. James Bond from the UK. I, like much of the movie going population, am not a big fan of Mr. Bond or even his gadgets. Some women seem delighted by his gadget(s) but those would be the gadget minded females of our planet. I am however a big fan of the pseudo-intellectual Bond beauties, who are not afraid to reveal their true shape to PG audiences, and who only know English as a second or third language, if any language. These exotic and erotic beauties radiate a raw sexiness via various body parts, while cracking complex Russian codes, or hacking into Cray type supercomputers in order to save the world before the movie ends. Their reward is a night with the gadget-toting Mr. Bond, who remains calm while excitement lap dances the audience into a frenzy. These erotic beauties normally don’t go very far in the movie business, and usually end up as posters in the rooms of deprived men and boys. We (men and boys) envy Bond and his ability to charm the pants, or pull the bikini strings off most exotic beauties in full view of vivid imiginations.

Yes, I have strayed too much and I need to regroup, and try to remember what my point was. I think I remember. I am one of those guys who are turned on by a brain with a body (sexist statement). Failing the right mix of the two ingredients, then I will have to give in to instinct and go with the jeans, which wraps the body to perfection, or a skirt, which cleverly but clearly implies where the treasure is. I think this blog is probably nonsensical, and appears for no reason other than I started to type, and this is what popped out.

p.s. This blog was done in h.s format – the quote intros 🙂