When it's Too Hot Outside for Titties

I think it is time for one of my MANIFESTOS.

Why? Well, because I find myself needing a break from my novels. I find myself needing a break from emails, and I find myself excited that the LUVOX is FINALLY WENDING its way out of my system. Yeah, that's right. It's working its way right out of my system. Well, how do you know this Hobobob. Well, this morning I awoke to my first morning glory in over a month! That's right, tent pants! That shit feels good. MY MOJO is BACK! Konnichiwa!

But no, erections are not what this manifesto is about. Sorry girls. Instead, it's about my favorite thing in the world, or more to the point, my most favorite two things in the world. Mammary glands. That right, knockers. Or knobs. Or sweater puppies, mounds, sweater meat, heavy hangers, bust, bosom, funbags, flapjacks, breasticles, jugs, melons, rack, hooters, cans, bazookas, baps, assets. Or boobs, or the all time favorite, titties! Or what those in polite company like to call...breasts.

Why titties,? Why now? Why? Well, if you have to ask that question you are either not a man, or a man with no MOJO. Since my MOJO came back last night, I realized something in the heat of the New York night: That the titties are out! That's right, like on presentation or display. It's just hot out, and being somehow connected to the change in temperature, they open up like flowers in the spring.

Now this is not a manifesto about tities per-se, because what can be said new that hasn't been said before? Really, just think about that. Just what can be said about titties now that is new and refreshing? What? Their varied sizes and shapes, their height to the breastbone, or their firmness to the touch? What hasn't been said that hasn't been said already? Well, I'll give you a little thought, or slant. How about a man's view of tits?" Or more accurately, a hobo's view of tits?

Well, from spending time on the streets of the city, I realize that when a woman goes by with tits, now that's redundant, because damn near all women have tits. I'm talking about, when a woman is DISPLAYING her mammaries, which all women do not. Well no matter their fucking size, and sometimes depending on their...length, they will draw the attention of men. Just as certain as if a big assed flying saucer dropped out of the skies, like in Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

Yes, a woman displaying any type of tit will get eyes a wandering, and in New York, it seems to me that when it gets hot, and the summer dresses with the plunging necklines come out, the bras come off! Shit, just yesterday, on the train, there was a woman, I swear to god, in jeans and a bra. Jeans and a bra. You figure that shit out. Did she walk out of her home just forgetting to put on her blouse, or did she say, 'Just FUCK IT then, it's too hot out?' And now, in New York, since they can just go topless if they so desire, I'm looking forward to when they can just wear grease paint or a strip of duct tape.

Men will look. We will crane our necks, drop our pens and pencils, take up positions on the trains and subways. And women know that we are staring, and they are wearing. But this interaction didn't begin last Thursday. Consider that this interaction didn't occur in our lifetime. It's nothing new, but it had to develop from somewhere. It just didn't happen during the Victorian Era as an in vogue thing to want to put your whole mouth around.

Yeah, that's right, Freud, and a whole bunch of women would like to put forth the theory that a man's desire for tits (I know that I can call them breasts, but this is from a hobo's point of view) comes from when he was infantile, when as a baby. And that when he was born he was given a tit to suck on and it stuck. Since then, since he was a baby with a nipple in his mouth, he has always been drawn to tits. Well, I have to say to Freud and the girls, that doesn't make sense. Here are some hobo questions to that logic.

What about girls that have been introduced to breast feeding. When they see ANY pair of partially revealed tits go by do they look as if it's their last day on Earth? Nope. With the exception of our lesbian population out there, the average woman does not find the sucking of another woman's tits appealing. OH, well you just don't know women Hobobob. Alright, lets say that I don't. Well how about all of the children who weren't breast fed, but where fed from bottles. Does this make them want to suck on plastic containers? When they walk past milk bottles in the dairy section, do they stop and stare hypnotically that they are uncovered? What about the sucking of other things human, such as sucking cock. What were these men and women sucking on at birth that would remind them of a cock and balls to stick in their mouths?

Lollipops? What babies suck on those? Nipples? Well, shouldn't that make them want mammaries? If not, then we would die off as a race of human beings because people would be tanking down semen like there was no tomorrow and not using any of the white stuff for procreation.

NO, I say. NO to all of these learned extra- polations! I have a perfectly sensible HOBO alternative. It dates back to when we were troglodytes, running naked through the jungles of the planet, eating leaves, covered with hair as our only protection and all of our junk hanging out. It was a time where the eye could make decisions for us. Especially women, who are identical, at a glance, from the waist down. And men were not turned on until women were in heat. Sex and procreation was, and still is to some extent, and entirely female function. She decides who gets to poke the shit out of her.

Well, when she is deciding, she has, or had, the choice of looking at how long his dick and balls hung, meaning virility. Or how much muscle he had, meaning protection and strength, or how large his hands were, another form of solace. Even how fucking big his feet were, which indicated how fast this fucker could run from danger, so as to save his life, and therefore protect hers (how can running save HER life, Hobobob. Well, if you think about it, if while hunting, he can get away from becoming some beasts food, he can bring some other food home).

But going on, again, that's all from a woman's point of view. From a man's point of view, there was nothing that would prove that a woman would be a good procreator. Nothing, other than...you guessed it. Her tits. The vagina, completely hidden by fur. What? What was left? Nothing but those tits (they were probably also a reason why men weren't making the error of fucking each other in the asshole...unless they wanted to).

Moving on, with this in mind, men today look at tits as measures of procreative talent. Of baby caring, of mothering, for the child and himself. We are drawn to tits by an innate urge that is compelling. There are no set of tits that a man will not look at...even if desperate enough, a set of old, droopy ones. As I have heard...if you see one pair of tits...you want to see 'em all.

So in closing, that's another Hobo manifesto. Where did I get the data for this infor- mation? Well, it's a very scientific method. Can you see me, stretched out across a park bench, digging in a bag of goodies from Sylvia's place and looking around at the people walking past me and thinking to myself, because that's all I had was time to think! Now I have a little more in life, so it takes longer to get one of these out to you so I call it my Manifesto. Maybe one day all of them will be collected by someone strange after I'm dead, and make a million from a book deal. Maybe I should do it one day cold and rainy. Maybe. I mean, who cares what I think about tits?

Although, I can say, in being a man, I like 'em small and firm. But the truth is, as with every man, I'll take 'em any way I can, by any means possible.

Enjoy tits guys! You only live once.

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