Rehashing the News

The standard hazard of upcoming New Years is that both the televised and print media go into the rehash mode: printing numerous items regarding The Top Ten News Events of 2010, The Tope Ten (or Twenty) Entertainers of 2010, The Best Dressed of 2010, The Twelve Biggest Rectum Pains of 2010, and so forth.

This should be looked at as opportunities the media exploits for doing it on the cheap: recycling news. This is not to say that the quantity of news is a constant: sometimes there is not much happening, sometimes there is.

Actually, some forms of recycling is commendable. If newspapers or glass bottles could be recycled, then that's cool. And summer re-runs on television can be viewed as an opportunity to varying one's viewing or see an episode that might have been missed. It's knowing what is okay to recycle, and what is not, that is crucial.

Wouldn't it be refreshing if, somewhere, a television evening news team were to begin the program with, "Folks, nothing much really happened today, but we plan to fill in this half-hour agreeably, should you care to watch. Oh yes, Myra will unbutton one button on her blouse every five minutes."

Christmas, Moon Pie Highs, and Other Nostalgia

I wish I could buy Moon Pies in Montana. I could use a Moon Pie high right now despite the extra time I need exercising and running to work off those extra calories from that Southern indulgence.

And wouldn't it be nice to spend the afternoon hanging out at the Cool Springs mall with the girls, or eating Thai food in M'boro.

And cheering for Middle Tennessee State.

Nostalgia works in odd ways. Sometimes the little things loom inportant. Whatever outsiders feel about Tennessee, I will always be a Tennesseean. At the Christmas time it is joyous to get reconnected with family, to help trim the tree, to put on a pretty dress on Christmas morning and go to church, enjoy family dinners, and in general reconnect.

I hope everyone has a joyous Christmas or Holiday Season.

Hairballs

It was sorority song night, and the Chili Dog Sisters were to take part by arranging, practicing, and staging a skit for this evening of mandatory fun and games. Now other groups went in for the intricately coreographed show tunes, sometimes with canes and straw hats, the Greek choruses, the oldie rock numbers, and (of course) that schmaltzy sentimental state song "Tennessee Waltz."

We elected to do cute. We each wore white felt [literal] cat suits with kitty cat whiskers and kitty cat ears, and sang a nonsensical song, "The Cat Came Back" which harkens back to nursery school days. In truth, we were perfectly awful: too cute by half -- just the kind of thing that soothes the nerves of Student Activities people and encourages their world view that college students are basically benign.

At the climax of the song, all seven of us turn around in unison, twirl our tails in synchrony, insert large darkened cotton balls into our mouths, turn back forward, and spit out the cotton "hairballs" in unison.

We got the most applause.

But no prize.

Barroom Pie Fights

I don't know if this kind of "sport" is simultaneously catching on in other parts of the country, but around here a new bar activity is girls' pie fights. It's as lurid as a wet t-shirt contest, but is quite a bit messier -- yet does have some redeeming taste values.

The two contestants wearing swimsuits appear in the contest rink together. Each are each armed with a pair of cream pies: some contestants prefer both to be vanilla custard, while others mix vanilla and chocolate. They stand about six feet apart, and attempt to hit each other with their pies, while trying to dodge their opponent's.

Usually both customers get quite messy in the process; and the audience cheers on this amazing spectacle.

You can call it tacky; and I fully agree. But America, with inventiveness in seeking out new avenues for crass entertainment, have invented tough guy fighting exhibitions, wet t-shirt contests, skin the bunny, midget bowling, and hot dog eating contests. Think of this as part of the grand tradition!

A Capital for a Day

Here's a little-known bit of chicanery in history. It happened over 200 years ago not too far away from where I grew up:

"A recurring issue, and one that took five treaties and 28 years to dispose of, was the Cherokees' claims to land wanted by the settlers. Forked-tongue diplomacy was the norm in dealing with this issue, but it was elevated to a new artform in 1807. In an earlier treaty, the Cherokee had been led to believe that if they ceded the land in and around Kingston to the government, Kingston would become the capital of Tennessee. And true to the agreement, Kingston did become the capital of Tennessee — for one day. On Monday, September 21, 1807, the first session of the seventh General Assembly of the state of Tennessee convened in Kingston. At the end of the day, the Senate and the House of Representatives resolved to '...adjourn forthwith from Kingston, to meet on Wednesday the 23d inst. at eleven o'clock, A.M. at the courthouse in Knoxville.' "

In other words, they told the trusting Cherokees that, if they were to cede the land, it would become a state capital. And they went through the motions, making little Kingston capital for a day.

Reference for the obsessive fact-munchers:

http://www.roanealliance.org/community/community_history.html

The Botax and Possible Implications of It

Okay, I have been only occasionally following this lively debate, good citizen that I am. But I read an article from that semireliable source, MSN, and something in it caused me to wonder: "If Americans were concerned about Congress getting their grubby hands on their Medicare, wait till it touches their breast implants. Among the ways the Senate health care bill pays for itself is a 5 percent tax on elective cosmetic surgery like tummy tucks, face lifts, hair plugs, collagen injections, and any other nonrequired procedures-a proposal known as the 'Botax.'" -- from the MSN article.

Just what we need: our government copping . . . . no, I'll leave it unsaid, and keep it funny, maybe. Do they realize what it will do to the industry of Beverly Hills? Can Hollywood stand the hit? And what about certain key members of Congress? Will this change the landscape of L.A., where turkeys are the only ones with natural breasts? Will that change the primary meaning of "spread," where John Wayne or Ronald Reagan used to ride, or something you put on bread? And will the only plugs we encounter are accessories for firefighting or superannuated equines? Thank God for the prohibition of ex post facto laws by Article I, section 9 of the Constitution!

[Written during the health care debates]

The Dorkistan Bikini Team

The Peoples' Republik of Dorkistan, as part of their Five-Year Plan of Modernization, has instituted the Dorkistan Bikini Team. Fear our revolutionary fervor and beauty, Swedish Bikini Team!

A Radical Proposal for Television Programming

At the University, we were encouraged to be innovative, to think "outside the box." Never mind the hackneyed expression . . . . but here's an idea that I have that you might consider.

Television has been routinely criticized for its failings. Specifically, it counts these offenses, real or exaggerated:

1) Programming is directed mostly to the lowest common denominator.

2) It has little appeal to the elderly.

3) Negligible appeal to males between the ages of 18 and 25, other than sports programming. Thus, this lucrative market is untapped for advertising consumer products.

4) It has little entertainment value.

And, more recently,

5) Network television is not "gay enough."

My proposal is this: Have a competition between universities regarding their teams' ability to remember basic facts of culture and science. Each week, two universities randomly paired off in a general information quiz program. If any question goes unanswered, a buzzer sounds, and the name of a show tune flashes on the screen.

Members of the team that fails to answer the question have two options: either strip off an article of clothing, or sing the show tune that was flashed on the screen.

This, folks, is a win-win prospect:

If the team members elect to sing the tune, the elderly are entertained.

If they choose to strip, instead, the young female demographic is entertained by the show, and the young males by the current practice of "shaming." Especially if the tune in question is "I Feel Pretty."

Naturally, the audience might learn from the answers to the questions, even if they are inevitably disappointed by correct answers. Therefore, the show has some educational content

What do you think of this? Is this a winner?

Corporate Sponsors for Strippers

Wanda Bodestar pondered the parlous state of exotic dancing in the Oughts: the salaries of strippers had not yet readjusted to go with the increased demands of the business, and the fickle customer base required more and more in terms of gimmicks. Last year, for example, poor Wanda spent over $4000 in hard-earned money on mighty skimpy work-related costumes. (But at least they could be written off on the income tax, that's a small consolation.) In short, what's a poor girl to do: the overhead had risen like inflation in the Carter years but the adjustments were as meager as the costumes allowed in Vegas.

In order to ease her troubles, Wanda watched a NASCAR race. Unknown to most Americans, perhaps intentionally by both NASCAR and the National Organzation of Strippers (their union), most exotic dancers and go-go girls watch NASCAR for recreation. She chilled out: it was the second pina colada that did it (another dirty little secret of that respectable profession). Then the post-race program came on, with the mandatory insincere deep-throat guzzling of the Pepsi by the winner.

And it dawned on her a solution: Have strippers get corporate sponsors. Yes, they could start off with the initial outfit festooned with various corporate logos and symbols. As she sheds each one, the focus of the audience in the gentlemen's club is on the ad, er garment, bearing the ad.

Little Egypt could not have been more effective with her Dance of the Seven Veils!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The idea was a big success.

Now at the Highway 97 Gentlemen's Club, Wanda is in the middle of her act. She teasingly plays to remove the Exide battery logo as the audience looks on. But all are ultimately awaiting the removal STP emblem or the Chevrolet logo, suitably sponsored by those corporations! Because of a local ordinance, Wanda will remained clothed in the virtue of the Taco Bell logo.

Ain't America grand!

Questions Regarding Some Theological Matters Regarding Procreation

Those of us who are trying to live Biblically, using the word of the LORD as a guide to our lives should consult the GOOD BOOK regularly and see proper guidance. I will admit that I have done it religiously; but have not found the proper Biblical passages regarding certain aspects of marital behavior. Obviously, these questions would apply to married people only.

(1) Should the missionary position be the only position to be used by proper, upright Christians, or is this something required only of missionaries?

(2) Does using the missionary position also apply to revivalists; or only to those trying to convert the heathens of Kentucky?

(3) How many times per week should a Good Christian Husband perform his husbandly duty?

(4) Does taking out the garbage also fall under the heading of husbandly duty?

(5) Is it okay for married couples to know each other on Sunday, or is that day reserved only for the LORD?

(6) Does the Bible say anything about who should sleep on the wet spot?

(7) Does doing it in the nude constitute a sin?

(8) Does using Crisco constitute a sin?

(9) Does wearing a bowling shirt while engaging in the procreative act an offense that good Christians should avoid?

Please share your Biblical insights with us.

The Tax on Bovine Flatuses

Recently, the Environment Protection Agency identified animal flatuses as being a significant source of pollutants: approximately 18% of the global warming gases worldwide, including a staggering 37% of methane emissions and an enormous amount of nitrous oxide and carbon dioxide emissions.. After all, there are 1.5 billion cattle and 1.7 billion sheep worldwide to generate all of these scents! That governmental agency, like other government agencies tend to do, saw this as a main chance to levy another tax, using the provisions of the Clean Air Act.

So, we may someday see the taxation of cow farts. Yes, this will take care of those global warming gases. we'll tax 'em, and I'm sure the government will spend the money wisely afterwards, as it always does. But, isn't this short-sighted? After all, about 70% of the world's surface is grazing land, and most of this is not yet in places taxable by the EPA. So, this tax will have a limited effect on the total global warming gas emissions unless we also incorporate a series of military adventures to spread the Tax Love around.

There's another problem: whenever a government derives large amounts of tax money from any source, including from taxing substances which are not healthy for us, the government (in a sense) acquires a vested interest in maintaining that activity or product and thus keeping up the revenue stream. Take cigarette smoking and alcohol beverage drinking: these are significant sources of revenue for both federal and state governmental entities. If the smokers or the boozers were abruptly to smoke less or drink less due to costly taxation, then government would have to get its revenue elsewhere! That can be a serious concern for some people whose bacon might be now fried. And, specifically, our government would have a vested interest in the maintenance of cow fart emissions!

I can envision the federal government some day encouraging the development of Crude Cows, those that emit even more cow farts than usual, all the better to tax them more heavily. There is another concern we should take into account. This proposed tax stereotypes all Bovine Americans as coarse, unmannerly animals. But what about the well-bred cows of America? I can imagine the bovine members of the Junior League thinking the very possibility of a their passing a flatus with utter horror, certain to banish the her from beyond the pale of polite society and being disowned by her family!

No, I think we should categorically exclude all Montana cows, which are quite polite and well-bred. Therefore, I propose that these global warming gases from two alternative sources be taxes in lieu of cows: from teenaged boys, and from politicians! I'm sure that once those sources are curbed, then the global warming problem will be solved!

Adaptation to Academic Life: The Grad Student Stage

The unwary aspirant of graduate studies enters a pitfall of semiotics that is hard to navigate. After all, academic life presents a facade of breeziness and nonconformity; but this covers like a doily the careerist conformity that is there like a bad cold or pizza boxes on the floor of a guy's apartment! The Sheep (the Academic Elect) and the Goats (not our type) differentiate themselves in varying ways.
The way that most outsiders is familiar with is politics. Be impeccably liberal in your overt stance: wear your affiliation on your sleeve, or at least on your auto bumper. Remember: MSNBC, not FOX News. Read the NY Times on weekends, not the Tennesseean. Vote in nonconforming ways secretly; if you must, be a closet Libertarian or Green Party member!

And speaking of autos, never, never drive a SUV or a Ford or Chevy. A Mini Cooper gets maximum points; but a Volvo or an Acura is okay if one can't avoid one's social background. Accords are too bourgeois, though Japanese. Guys owning a Corvette should expect comments about this being in response to certain, ah, anatomical inadequacies. Other grad students can be bitchy.

Get an accent. Something like received English or Bostonian, or middle European. Use tortured syntax like you were educated in Heidleberg. No drawls, twangs, and nothing that sounds like Sarah Palin or Jeff Foxworthy.

Furniture and decor: homemade bookcases, using boards and bricks, cast-off furniture. Nothing from Pottery Barn, except for in that room in which no one, even your closest friends, ventures. After all, loose tongues sink academic careers. Classical art deco posters: yes; Brad Pitt or Heath Ledger posters: no. Chuck Norris posters are triple no-no-nos!

Dress is a matter of importance: strive for functionality by wearing jeans and tops that are in natural colors. Watch Legally Blonde, and don't go there when it comes to fashion. Beware of t-shirts bearing ironic messages; they might be misconstrued as an expression of a non-academic disposition.

Footwear is especially important: sensible shoes should reign. No heels, please. And no bitch shoes! Keep thy bitchiness to your discourse.

Even lingerie is a criterion. Nothing colored, except maybe black. Think grannies, not bikinis or thongs. Reject sexy in favor of functional. Even though no one will see it, in your heart you know what you're wearing and it's not for you if you want to seem erudite.

Choose your music with care: Mozart is top of the line, but romantics such as Beethoven will also do, if not played too often. Progressive or retro jazz is in good taste. Blues is okay. Country music is OUT! Let not a Britney Spears CD be seen in your area.

The literature you won't ever get to read should be impressive: the kind that you would not mind people seeing that you were reading should you die when the book is only half-finished. Obviously, keep your bodice-rippers or fan mags under wraps. You want to seem literate. A book in an esoteric language would do it.

Religion: Presbyterianism or Episcopalianism or Unitariansim are all held in highest regard within academe. Or belong to to some fairly liberal Catholic or Methodist church. Attend irregularly. That's the key.

Then there's the matter of one's significant other. Generally, a live fiancee, boy friend, or lover is too high maintenance and requires too much time. It's better to have an absentee one. Someone at a med school or law school elsewhere, preferably a first-rung institution, like Harvard or Princeton. You don't get many points if he's at Alaska Polytechnic and Beauty School. If an absentee one is unavailable, then acquire a virtual one over the internet, being mindful never to meet said person.

Obviously, having an absentee Mr. Darcy or Indiana Jones would trump even those.
I hope this gives you some general notions as to fitting in academe. Remember: you can't ever be too pretentious!

Let's Retire the Expression "Required Reading"

Not all writings are equal. Some necessarily have more merit than others; some are more edifying, well-written, accurate, entertaining, informative, or whatever is reflected in the original purpose of the writing. And some are better ways to spend your time with than others.

But there seems to be this overused expression that seems to have grown like kudzu all over the writing landscape: To often, if a book or article is judged favorably by someone and she or thinks other should read it, the lackidaisical line calling it "required reading" is used, as in, "This book should be required reading for all novice strippers" or "This article should be required reading for all high-minded, politically in-tune, progressive individuals who might otherwise be affected by the wrong thoughts or views that they might otherwise have come up with।"

I am not saying that it is wrong to like some writing, or to say that people might enjoy it. Saying "this should be required reading" makes the user of this expression into a demigod or some cheap autocrat as well as being an unwarranted grabbing at authority.

The Tao of Bowling

Unless you are a habitual bowler, and have your own bowling ball and bowling shoes, you have to fall back on those rented from the bowling lanes. And what a horrid set of choices: typically red-and-green two-toned shoes, with the number sizes on the heels. Now the colors I can understand: it keeps them from being stolen by unscrupulous patrons desirous of a footwear upgrade. And the numbers too, I guess. But you have no secrets. The whole world (or so it seems) can see that you wear size 9 gunboats. It's like wearing a t-shirt proclaiming your bra size or GPA. Or having your Social Security number emblazoned on your butt! Or, most horrendous a disclosure! That you have a loser calling plan or you still use AOL. Bowling teaches you a lesson in humility, if you rent shoes. Everyone knows how big your feet are!

Premarital Clothes Washing

Dear Rev. Sister Peg,

My boyfriend and I have been keeping company for six months now, and both of us are determined to remain pure, to save ourselves until marriage and afterwards, when the LORD is pleased that we should start a family. We have been following your advice to do small things together, and the question of washing clothes came up. Specifically, should we start doing each other's clothes? Is that too much for a proper Christian relationship?

Confused


Dear Confused,

Your question raises an important niceity with regard to morality. Certainly, doing ordinary things together is meritorious, but the sensitive Christian young lady should be careful both to avoid exposing her intended to temptation, and to avoid temptation, herself. Specifically, the matter of underwear is something to be concerned about. Now I'm sure that you always wear only full-sized chaste white underwear; but you should also refrain from your intended by the LORD seeing them until you have been married for an extended time and his fires have been banked.

When you wash his jeans, be sure to use sufficient starch and iron on the crease.

Being Boring Strategically

Being boring? Who, me? We first may exclaim; but there's the sense afterward: maybe. How can we tell? Is there some boroscope we can turn to to give us our momentary B.Q. (Boring Quotient)? No, being boring, like halitosis or having your the top of you bra show, is something that people immediately notice but nobody gives you a kind hint that you can use then and there. Therefore, you have to look for these tell-tale cues, in which people might betray their being bored by you.

Obviously, the thing that most will do with this information is to correct their behavior: change the topic, learn to be more interesting, perhaps more histrionic. Anyway, this is done because being seen as boring is a BAD THING. However, this is not always the case. Back when I was at Franklin High, I got into trouble, and was summoned to the Assistant Principal's office. There the person in question asked what my excuse was. So I answered. And gave a long and involved answer. I managed to skirt the question, talk about fantastic mitigating circumstances, and in general produce a huge quantity of verbiage. I noticed that after a while, he seemed to be listening less well, so I kept on talking and talking but still not getting to the point. He must have thought that I was the world's greatest scatterbrain, despite my grades and activities! The non sequiturs, the anecdotes, the et cetera remarks made it seem that I could never get on topic; but he was a mannerly Tennessee gentleman, I'll give him credit for that! He was not going to be rude and cut me short without allowing me to fully explain myself. Finally, he did. He let me off the hook. No punishment. Nada. Ta-da! You might say that I talked myself out of trouble, not by my adroit use of language or my superlative reasoning, but simply by quantity!

An Engineering Problem of the 1950s?

A remarkable artist from the 1950s, Art Frahm, had a recurrent motif in his artwork: ladies in distress due to the unexpected loss of their panties while ogling men enjoy their predicament! You can Google this artist's name to see some examples of his style and works; one of these is posted below:





Very clearly, she is dismayed. But her unsympathetic onlookers are not. But what is the reason for this motif? There are several possibilities that I would like to discuss.

1) It is an antifeminist statement. It is intended as a cautionary lesson against intruding into what were male perserves because of the possibility of panty mortification! However, this argument seems invalid in that many of his pictures depict women doing typically female activity such as grocery shopping.

2) It is a mild risqué artistic work; a substitute for the lush 19th century nudes that a pre-Puritan time permitted. After all, porn and irony did not come into being until the 1990s. By putting the heroine in a ridulous situation, it disarms the viewer and causes him to see it as amusing. Furthermore, the typical male did not usually have any experience with prurient garments as granny panties unless they had been married for a substantial amount of time.

3) Ultimately, this is simply an expression of the short life span that the elastic of the time had, a then-developing technology in which Art Frahm revealed its imprefections! To cite as support for this I cite the easy acceptance of blue jeans as feminine garb. Wearing jeans took a lot of the existential worry out of appearing in public!

4) Finally, the type of panties of the 1950s might have been part of the problem. Grannies, because of their weight, result in more downward stress on the elastic. However, by the use of lighter material and briefer panties, the incidence of panty failures diminished dramatically. Therefore, the progression from granny panties to panties, to bikini briefs to thongs represents superior technological developments as well as social more change.

Does Size Matter in Sex?

Having a larger body mass index (BMI), that is.

Sex researchers at Ecriyes University in Turkey did a year-long study documenting the correlation between BMI and male sex performance. In a nutshell, heavier guys last longer. Heavier guys last an average of 7.3 minutes during coitus, while thin guys last only about 108 seconds.

Hopefully, those 7.3 minutes are performed cowgirl-style!

Anyway, maybe thin guys need to ramp up that foreplay, eh?

Conference on the Cheerleader as an Icon in Postmodern Society

The Institute for Liberal Arts Studies is pleased to announce that the Conference for the Cheerleader as an Icon in Postmodern Society will be held in San Diego, California from October 7 to October 10, 2010 at the Coronado Hotel. This promises to be an annual international event to facilitate scholarly inquiry into Cheerleader Studies. At this time, here are some tentative topics on the program, and their presenter(s):

The Deconstruction of Cheerleader Politics in Southern California: A Feminist Perspective -- Olivia Wilcox, San Diego Polytechnic Institute

'Bring It On' and the Representation of Eunuchism in the Male Cheerleaders and the Unsuccessful Football Team -- Philbert Desenex, Southern Tennessee University

The Blonde as a Moral Touchstone in the 'Bring It On' Series -- Faye Raye Day, Nebraska School of Mines

A Deconstructionist Analysis of the Archetypes of Ideal Teen Characters -- Willoughby Percival Thoreston, Oregon Valley College

The Role of the Cheerleader as Vestal Virgin and as Outsider in the 'Bring It On' Series -- Amanda Sue Thomas, Florida School of Surf Studies and Aerobic Dance

Postmodern Views of Team Support in Cheer Studies -- Joan Witherspoon and Clyde Bullard, Pismo Beach School of Surfing

A Structualist Analysis of the Settings in Cheerleader Movies -- Paloma Palmerson, University of Verona Beach

Cheerleader Parentage Gone Wrong: the Cautionary Example from Texas -- Dorita Sue Prufock, University of Texas at Fredericksburg

Tommy Lee Jones as a Cheerleader Coach in 'Man of the House' -- Stereotypical Male or Pathfinder? -- Thelma Crabtree, University of Texas at Port Aransas

Baton-Twirling as an Archetype of Antebellum Matriarchy in Mississippi Semiotics -- Judson Wilson, University of Middle Mississippi

Ironic Images in the Somersaults of Hyperkinetic West Coast Cheerleaders -- Elizabeth Bartlett, West Coach School of Philosophy

Inroads of Cheer Culture in New England: Evidences of Cultural Insemination in Primitives by Mass Media -- Shelby Woodstock and Maud Merritt, Pandemic Institute for Technology

Other papers will be added to this program, as the organizers have a policy of rolling acceptance of new materials. Additional proposals on Cheer Studies are welcomed.

Staging Your Early Background and Childhood for Future Fame

One of the things that differentiates the great masses of us from our betters (at least in terms of fame and/or accomplishments) is the relative haphazardness of our earlier lives. Let's face it: we've now smartened up enough now to realize that possible employers or human relations directors do scrutinize Facebook to look for signs of a non-corporate mentality in what we thought we were sharing solely with our friends. (Not to mention the less discreet bikini poses that we had meant solely to appeal to our b.f.'s de jour.)

And, of course, any drinking or other violations of the laws of God or man might be seen by law enforcement personnel. No, the problem is more than that. Most of us, even if we live our lives Integer vitae, we still have those less-than-sterling residues to come up and bite us in our increasingly padded butts as we reach the heights of fame or fortune. After all, say you're running for the U.S. Senate in Massachuetts (a sign in itself of moral questionability), and it is revealed that your seventh-grade report card has mostly C's and D's. The Dons of Hah-vard will go "tut," and make an unjoyful noise that you are unworthy! Or, let's say that you are the hottest of the hot supermodels, and your tween picture of you with braces comes out? Or what about that dubious dress that you wore to the prom, or that sweet but impossibly outré boy who you went with?

Or even more so, your membership in that kooky cult that wore those silly outfits and acted like Young Republicans off the reservation? We're talking Situation Damage Control here! Doing repair work on the ol' image.

A big source of damaging information is everyday official records, such as school or police reports. Some are supposed to be closed; but persistent journalists or papparazzis can dig up dirt if there's dirt to be found. Unfortunately, the only ultimate solutions are sort of illegal; such as hacking into records of varying types and making them sound better or discreetly bribing your way to civic virginity!

Photographs are easier, provided you also destroy the negatives or memory cards. Keep the ones marking major life events, such as graduations, honor society memberships, or worthy school activities, provided the pictures are flattering. A tip: get some professionally-taken ones; no glam shots and, above all, no boudoir poses! Obviously, destroy all souvenir detention slips.

And bribe your old high school assistant principal to silence. Actually, if he is like most, he is all-too-willing to support your persona: after all, not many of his charges amounted to anything.

Personal possessions should be culled from time to time. Having a single, charming stuffed animal left over from your childhood is desirable; having a cabinet full is -- whoa! -- a little too much disclosure! Clothing should be deliberately culled, lest they seem dowdy, bizarre, or too intrusive. Imagine yourself being famous; and having a museum of your childhood home. And what is on display? A bra that you wore back as a freshman will be studied by all, and your size checked and commented on. And, for God's sake, lose those cute hats! No one looks good in a hat!

On the plus size, purchase a few faux trophies and certificates to indicate your showing early promise. No one will look further into them.

And have a few tantalizing items that are incompletely accounted for to add a touch of mystery. After all, you want them to continue to look, you know. Maybe a baton, or a cheerleader's outfit or a gavel. Or a notebook of poetry. Copy neatly only your best efforts, though. And try to appear both open and modest if enquired.

Look at my advice not as a suggestion to be dishonest, but rather to be strategically revisionist. After all, even newspapers have editors. Why not edit your life to make it more in line with your present accomplishments?

My Training Bra

When I was eleven, my mother bought me an apparatus called a 'training bra.' I was supposed to wear it next to my body under my blouse or t-shirt.

Now I had not developed yet, and had not as yet begun to experience the anxiety as to when or even if it would happen. Therefore, it seemed to be an unnecessary and uncomfortable garment, once the novelty and big-girl aspect of it wore off. I expressed resistance; and it required maternal firmness, I'm ashamed to say.

Soon I had more reason, and required a more serviceable bra. But, again, my assets until my high school graduation were rather modest. I got by.

I'll spare you the details, but now I have a reason to wear a bra. But I reflect on the concept of the training bra:

a) What do they receive training in?

b) Who evaluates this training in Tennessee?

c) Is the training program that they receive accredited by the Southern Association of Colleges and Schools?

d) What if it loses accreditation? Do I have to get another one for retraining?

Stalking the Wild Northwestern Male

In my time out in the northwest here, I find that social subtleties are somewhat less refined; and there is a more direct approach to dealing with the age-old dilemma facing women of whatever age they might have: how to get the male of the species interested in you without being too forward about it. [I have heard that in Wyoming women actually set bow snares to trap men; but that might just be an idle rumor, something we're all good at.]

Hair-tossing and too-long stares don't seem to work on these guys who are not really tuned to nuances. (The only exceptions are those who are gay or Californian.) And the charming smile and the softly modulated come-hither voice move these brickheads not. But, fear not: the anscestors of our proto-western males managed to pair off and reproduce, largely due to the resourcefulness of western women who gave up the ways of the dissembling East and became more direct in their approach, themselves. After all, men who say "Yup" may make good mates.

Anyway, here are the techniques that seem to work.

1) The most effective way into a man's heart is through his stomach. And let it be guy food: no soufflés or salads. Ribs and hamburgers work wonders, especially if garnished with Cheetos and chili.

2) Invite hime over to watch a DVD. The prospect of watching Die Hard can serve as a mating ritual in Montana. No you can't have The Bridges of Madison County or American Beauty. Not yours.

3) Unless the Big Game is on. If so, ask to watch with him and his buds. And refrain both from asking too many questions or displaying too much knowledge of the sport as to be intimidating.

4) Discreetly omitting buttoning some buttons of your blouse. One or two for sure; three if you are desperate. Beyond that, concede it all as hopeless. A little boobage is a foolproof attention draw.

5) Lose some surplus dignity, and present yourself as fun, fun, fun. Even if it takes singing karaoke. Yes, Jessica; I'm afraid that's how it works. So you can't sing? The truth is, nobody sounds great in karaoke bars.

6) Learn about the natural history of the type of male you choose. Very clearly, the Cowboy, the Granola, the Eastern Transplant, the Californian Wannabee, the Small Town Businessman, and the Yokel have different things that move them. More fundamentally, choose a type well so as to not be disappointed.

7) Go into settings where they can be found. In gyms, athletic fields, rodeos, fern bars, roadhouses, even art galleries. Don't go into rooms of buildings labeled "Men."

8) Develop a taste for the art of Charles Russell.

9) Politics: lite, unless you're in Idaho. There, right-wing extremism rules! For the left-wing male habitat, check out Seattle.

10) Religion: vague. Referring to the Great Spirit usually gets you out of most thorny theological questions.

11) Fashion: Minimalist (bare), Western, jeans, turquoise jewelry

12) Dialect: American Western

The Truth About Friday the Thirteenth

This Friday is Friday the Thirteenth.

Wondering if what they say about Friday the Thirteenth is true or not, I decided to see out an expert. However, he did not lurk in the usual places: the Halls of Academe, government think tanks, in the stratospheric realms of corporations. Finally, acting on a tip from an informant and free-lance yogurt pusher, I found him.

It was a dimly-lit bar, in one of the seedier areas of Music City. The air was filled with smoke, and a desultory tune. This was clearly a place to be careful in! He was pointed out to me, sitting alone and nursing a Jack Daniel. Astonishingly, I found that the place was also a gay bar! And a setting that was inexcusibly furnished with bad furniture choices.

Clearly, I was nonplussed. As a card-carrying female, I immediately thought that someone had impishly routed me in here as a joke, but I thought I'd find out for sure. After all, sometimes sources are accurate.

I inquired; and this large black cat stood up, bowed courtly, and introduced himself as Belial. Was he the authority on Friday the Thirteenth?

After offering me a drink (which I, in the interests of objectivity, politely declined), I got to the issue: what's the story about Friday the Thirteenth, and is there anything to worry about. His answer, given with the soft, cultivated accent of the Old South, was soothing. There's nothing really to worry about particularly on this day. Bad things will happen; but they're just as likely to happen on other days as on the Thirteenth. He did say one thing of concern: People don't worry as much about the Twentieth as they should. However, he did offer solace with the suggestion that celebrating 4:20 was an effective talisman against unidentified evils. There were also stories linking the superstition regarding the number 13 to The Last Supper and to Good Friday. Anyway, some people don't even get out of bed on Friday the Thirteenth, just to be safe.

He did opine, however, that Friday the Thirteenth, because of the myth, is not a healthy day for a black cat to be going around. That's why he was hanging out in a Nashvillian gay bar.

Truly, I have never met a cat as charming.

By the way, next year we have Friday the Thirteenth in May.

The Devushka Style

The Devushka (Девушка) style adopted by many young women in Ukraine (and those not so young) might be described as "hyper-feminine" in neutral terms or "neoslutty" in more judgmental ones. This is an edgy, sexy style that might bring out negative reactions in unfamiliar and insular Westerners, but especially people from Islamic countries who have more strict conceptions of proper female attire. In my opinion, it's rude and incorrect to conclude that she's immoral if she dresses Devushka: she just likes to show off her body. In the post-Soviet cultural landscape that is emerging in this decade, the old standards of dress and conduct are being challenged, and a more festive approach to life is emerging. To put it in another way, women are liberated from their socially-sanctioned roles as Heroine Worker or Tractor Driver or Party Official. The message is implicit: it's fun being a young woman, and I plan to enjoy it to the fullest.

What are the basic traits of the Devushka (Девушка) style?
First, there is greaer permissiveness as to what is proper: there is no such thing as clothing being too tight, too sheer, too low cut or too short.
Spiked heels is high couture: try to adopt those no greater in circumference than an icepick. Open-toed shoes, but preferably heels, is acceptable.
It is quite the mode to employ accents such as ruffles, flounces, bows, puffy sleeves and lace.
The distinction between day and evening wear is not recognized. Sequins, sparklies and rhinestones are just as appropriate standing in line at the aptek as they are at the most exclusive and toniest night clubs.
Bright, attention-drawing colors are preferred; and nyet to fibers that appear in nature. This is not a style for the nature-oriented set.
Foundation garments, if they must be worn, should be viewed as accessories. Thongs, if undergarments must be worn, are meant to be seen or at least hinted at.
Intriguing tees with non-sensical English phrases ("Punk It Up Rock Slacker," "Nuke the Whales"), coy witticisms ("Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir"), or classic tees (the Rolling Stones tongue).
Hints of nipples are acceptable.
Some aspects of a similar style to this independently manifested itself in Southern California, where the warm, sunny weather merges with greater acceptance of hedonistic lifestyles. As yet, the cultural and linguistic barriers are still formidable, but not totally unbreachable. Presently some aspects of styles like the Devushka are seen in Southern urban areas like Nashville, but the old norm of separate daytime and evening wear persists. After all, one has to have a day job.
One important consequence of the Devushka (Девушка) style is that it minimizes the level of anxiety associated with the Walk of Shame. Now no one knows for sure. But, even better, people are left hanging in wonder.

Naming the Church Parking Lots

It was a long evening for this particular committee of the Highland Park Baptist Church to do its business. The members were tired from their toils in the World of Mammon, and they were assigned to this extraordinary committee for the Baptist megachurch in the suburbs of their large metropolis. After being suitably motivated by the sermon by Brother Warren entitled "Many Ministries in the House of the Lord," they were edified and took their charge seriously. Brother Warren had noted the pedestrianism and lack of religious message in what the parking lots were designated; somehow, you just didn't get much of a religious message from Parking Lot H! Therefore, he got several old-time members, both men and women (Brother Warren wasn't sexist!), to serve on the Highland Park Baptist Church Parking Lot Nomenclature Committee.

The meeting brought forth many ideas: naming the lots after Graces, after Books of the Bible, after Biblical places, and so forth. However, the Spirit did not jell; no one was really inspired. Finally Brother Bob suggested that the parking lots be named after minor characters in the Bible: by doing that people might be motivated to see out in the Good Book the relevant passage for the person from whom their parking area was named. However, Bob, Bless His Heart, was more of a fan of Tom Clancy than his Biblical readings. And so were the others. But they had a way: thumb through the Bible, and draw on Divine Guidance.

Sister Sue seconded the motion, and transcribed all of the names agreed upon by the committee as they were selected. She told the Preacher about what they decided, and he endorsed it without reading it.

A few weeks later the signs were up. Habitual parkers in what was formerly Parking Lot E were startled to find that their parking lot was now named Jezebel Parking Lot; and Parking Lot H was now named Zipporah Parking Lot! Parking Lot J was renamed the Herod parking lot. Of course, it was a long time before the congregation was completely aware that something was remiss; after all, theirs was a megachurch and no one knows what was going on, by definition. Certainly not those in the Ruth, Moses, Asher, Jacob, Solomon, and Abraham Parking Lots .

Venues for Laundering Money

Ah, the life of crime has its pitfalls and requirements. Money laundering is one of those. Naturally, you can solve the problem by opening a coin-operated laundry, possibly on Minneapolis's south side. Or rent out vending machines. It's kind of amazing, however, that your typical candy machine pulls in $10,000 per day. They must be continually lining up at the machine!

But there is room for novelty here. Why not (I ask retorically) open a Tea Cozy Shop? Or how about a Bait and Bra Shop? Obviously, no Federal agent would think of organized crime using such an innocent venue with alliteration. Then, since cheerleading is so popular, a Pom-Pom Shop would be something to consider.

I'm so glad that the ten cents tax on espresso failed in Seattle. An Espresso and Mountain Dew Bar should be considered to meet the joint trade of the yuppie NASCAR fans. Residents will find it irresistible to browse in a Gorilla Dress Shop! Or run a Retreat for Sleazy Legislators. Yessir! There are niches for imaginative hoods nowadays. And I betcha the FBI would never figure out any of them. Yah!

Confusing the John 3:16 Guy

There's this annoying dude that attends sporting events, especially those that are televised, and holds up a sign with the message "John 3:16 on it." Naturally, he intended people's natural curiosity to understand the message causing them to look it up.

Anyway, I decided to pull his chain a little, just for fun. I made a sign, and attended a football game while dressing as primly as I could. Whenever he held up his sign, I held up my sign which said simply: "Genesis 19:31." I'm sure he he regretted not having his trusty Bible and immediately looked it up when he went home.

The Staging of Swimsuit Malfunctions

How can you be noticed by guys when your assets are slight? Frankly, this is a problem that several ladies must contend with. While many of us are modest and assuming, sometimes even the more introverted of us might wish to draw the notice of that special guy, who happens to be apparently oblivious to you! Behind this problem are two factors: (1) The fabled unawareness of males, and (2) The dramatic maldistribution of the assets that make one attractive to males; specifically such features as having large boobs or blonde hair.

Now we all have heard that Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (even a movie title), and some of us have gone the route of becoming dyed blondes, with varying degrees of success. (I did it once; but with decidedly negative parental reviews; let's leave it at that.) There is the initial and maintenance costs involved when you dye to be a blonde, but also the approximately 20 points decline in I.Q. that accompanies this change!

And some of us have gone the saline or silicone highway. One Chili Dog has gone the way of the silicone interstate highway! Doing this is very hard to overlook, in both the positive and negative senses. The rampant speculations abut their reality status are inevitable; but this is, in a way, a kind of attention-seeking, and it works.

There is another approach that might be used during times of warmer weather. Specifically, some bikini swimsuit tops or halters come with ties in the back. These could be, you know, strategically undone at the time when your target male is near by. Immediately hold the falling top against your chest, and present yourself as both helpless and dismayed!

A bikini with bottom and top ties is necessarily a tension-raising thing: onlookers implicitly think: what if it becomes undone? (And many guys think, "Oh, please . . . . " And the scenario I'm describing capitalizes on that primal male fantasy: here's a helpless woman in need of a manly man to save the day!

So, by all means, consider this ploy. But do it strategically, and consider the possible risks. For example, you might show more than intended, or he might instead decide to acquire a souvenir!   My advice is, know your guy, and do this only if you're sure he's a gentleman. He just needs his gentleman button to be pressed.

Gnomes for All Purposes

I'm not sure what it is -- is it a European thing, or is it an acquired taste, or maybe it's a current rage that is just creeping down into the wilds of Middle Tennessee. I don't know; but there they are: these kind of creepy little guys with beards and pointy red hats in the oddest places around homesteads. This is especially true of a type of bed and breakfast establishment, where the owners endeavor to make it unique or distinctive while having it decorated with objets de arte that are very ulikely to be taken home by less ethical guests.

It's the Invasion of the Gnomes! Ahhh! They're now plaguing the Southland! And, gift boutiques all over the place are quite sluttish in their carrying these dubious decorations.

Unfortunately, if you see one gnome, you've seen them all. Maybe they could start making some with a little personality, eh? (No, I'm not Canadian.)

Now there's a thought: How about these? Be sure to give them pointy hats:

1. Bart Simpson. Now there is a back-yard statuette that you can live with for a long time!

2. Paris Hilton. Popular with dads and frat members. It gives an air of insouciance on the lawn of the University President's home.

3. Tony the Tiger. A great American who has done lots to make our breakfasts great.

4. Michael Moore. Suitable in a role as a lawn jockey.

5. Fred Durst. Have the first gnome with tattoos on your block.

6. Elvis. Instantly recognizable for his white jump suit.

7. The BP CEO. A magnet for vandalism.

8. Helen Thomas. Someone really scary.

9. Christina Aguliera. Because she's everywhere.

10. Fred Flintstone. Let us not forget our prehistoric ancestors.

11. Oscar Wilde. One of the first celebrities to walk on the Wilde side.

12. Jacko. Because it's possible now. Just don't make him into a lawn jockey.

13. An Enron executive. Da doo enron Da doo enron.

14. Bill Clinton. As long as it's PG - 13 it's okay for yard display.

15. Goofy. The most unsung and disrespected of the Disney menagerie.

News from Dorkistan

Good evening, Comrades! This day, Wednesday June 23rd, has been a great day in the revolutionary struggle of the People's Republic of Dorkistan.

The Revolutionary Council has completely abolished the salaries of governmental workers and, instead, launched a policy making bribery of public officials no longer illegal but now mandatory. Thus The People's Republic of Dorkistan moves into the forefront of national development, becoming the world's first admitted kleptocracy. Other notorious kleptocracies such as Russia, Mexico, and the United States have yet to strip off the bonds of social hypocrisy.

In another development, the Revolutionary Council has adopted a straightforward economic policy: (1) do it later; (2) cultivate the recreational drug industry; (3) serve as a haven for remittance persons; (4) become a prime Spring Break site.

In a surprising economic move, the Revolutionary Council announced subsidies for Cheerleader Camps. "This will give full employment for our more active people, the fruit of a firm commitment to Dorkistani Socialism and an allegiance to the vigorous life.

Reports from committes also marked the plenary session:

The Revolutionary Flag Task Force is still unable to come up with a banner reflecting the revolutionary zeal of the Dorkistan people, given that the stipulations that the colour scheme include pink and baby blue.

The Tourist Council reported that Dorkistan has recently been removed from the list of Most Dangerous and Creepy Places after a few strategic bribes. Money well-spent, in my opinion.

The Revolutionary Ladies' Swimwear Task Force has announced its standards for proper ladies' swimwear. Single-colored bikinis, even strings, are acceptable as long as the caboose is covered and the swimwear includues a colour-matching native Dorkistani woolen hat. In reflection on the season in which swimwear might be worn, the ear flaps need not be lowered.

The Revolutionary Television Cooperative announced that it will show the A-Team four days a week; the remaining days being set aside for revolutionary indoctrination. This surprising move reminds all of the imperialist forces and bad haircuts that the Dorkistani Revolution is struggling against.

The Council of Mullahs demanded and got double overtime and free street parking for their revolutionary complaining.

The Revolutionary Council adjourned to a coyote bar after the meeting, and several danced Dorkistani folk dances on the top of the bar while the rest got dead drunk.

In the world of sports, the Olympic Committee of the People's Republic of Dorkistan has petitioned the IOC to include Zen bowling and Zen synchronized swimming as Olympic sports for the 2012 Olympics. Presently, Dorkistan will will participate in the marathon and gymnastics.

Montana's Officially Sanctioned Patriotic Day of Conception

I thought of this back in 2007.

Not Sufficiently burdened with the cares of the office, Governor Schweitzer had a new one presented to him by Montana's Official State Demographer and Hexmaster: the birth rate was alarmingly declining, and this boded ill for the state flow of income in years hence. After all, these cut little babies produced by those randy cowboys and lumberjacks with those Wild West Women eventually devolve into taxpayers.

An additional problem to make this worse is out-migration: young adults going elsewhere. Especially to those twin hell-holes of vice and bad music: Denver and Seattle. However, a reading of the Denver Post posed a happy solution: A Russian province, Ulanovsk, recently came up with declaring September 12th as a Day of Conception; and the worthy comrades are supposed to get (shall we say) better acquainted. This could be done here also!

So, he ordered the State Purveyor of Official Verbiage to write a proclaimation declaring September 15th to be Montana Officially Sanctioned Patriotic Day of Conception! (Hoping that the State would also get lucky.)

Immediately, people got into the spirit of things. The opposing party, fearing a groundswell of partisan support (some people feeling the Earth move), they declared it to be a State Day of Restraint and Cold Showers. T-shirt manufacturers produced one with a happy face on it: "I participated in the Montana Officially Sanctioned Patriotic Conception Day and all I got was this lousy shirt." And, Eastern newspapers wrote editorials tsk-tsking Montana for making such a commotion. Yes, the NY Times had a voyeuristic field day unsurpassed since the original Paris Hilton video. But, in the west, the newspapers of Idaho openly expressed anxiety regarding possible aggressiveness in the future by a resurgent Montana filled with libidinous survivalists (in effect, going along with the Eastern stereotype of the Northwest.

Panty-Throwing at Musical Concerts

The custom of panty-throwing as a tribute to the virtuosity (or other attributes) of musical performers is said to have begun in 1847 when Elizabeth Janos, a 19th century Hungarian lady, in the throes of passion elicited by the performance of Franz Liszt, threw her panties on the stage while he was performing a rhapsody. Clearly, she was, also rhapsodotic. This deed, although harshly prosecuted by the intolerant Austro-Hungarian government, somehow caught on as other brave ladies followed suite on later dates at other Liszt performances.

Then there was Tom Jones in the 1960's. This Welsh crooner caused many damsels to develop a need to express their admiration for him with their undies. Of course, Mick Jagger and Wayne Newton were also major beneficiaries of this custom, and this became an institution even onto the present day. One can only speculate on the numbers tossed the way of the NKOTB or N-Sync in the Oughts, not to mention the Jonas Brothers.

Clearly the custom has been around long enough for it to be codified in etiquette. After all, the received culture has formed during that time some ideas as to how to do it correctly or incorrectly when offering a panty tribute. Politness counts in this matter.

Let's start with the basics: Under no conditions should said panties be removed during a concert. This is ungenteel and unseemly. And it might upset the tender sensibilities of college males, especially of the Dean persuasion. Also, the careful should ensure that the panties they toss have been properly laundered and ironed beforehand. Never present a pair that is too old, or has faded colors, obviously stressed elastic, or skidmarks. I recommend that the thoughtful debutante enclose a small packet of floral sachet to provide a memorable scent and a short but tender note expressing your deepest and most sincere sentiments to the performer, but refrain from being too graphic. The compleat fan should extensively research beforehand what the singer's favorite color is in selecting which panty to toss on the stage. This further contributes to making the gesture both intimate and personal.

Careful sensitivity should be shown to Christian rock or Christian contemporary performers. By all means, throw them your panties, but confine those so tossed only to those purely white grannie panties. No, bikinis and thongs are too risqué for these songbirds.

Thongs are fine for hip-hop or rap singers. Salsa singers should be given full panties in the colors of Mexico.

It is quite mannerly to give singers your panties, provided you do it in a socially correct manner. I suggest that you will trump others by gift-wrapping your panties in a nice box or gift bag with appropriately contrasting tissue paper.

While I have used the word "panties" in this essay, there is no reason why appreciative guys might not offer a tribute to their favorite female songster by tossing their briefs or boxers on the stage as well.

Girls Who Won't: A Fable

Heather was a good girl. In fact, she was the most ambitious and virtuous girl in her high school. She became a legend in her own time: she founded and was President of Girls Who Won't.

What was not as commonly known about her was that she was obsessive-compulsive; but also liked to please boys. How to deal with this dilemma? (It was one for her.)

She thought and thought about it. She downloaded pages from the internet. She consulted the right sources, and then it dawned on her. She could be a Technical Virgin (TV), and still maintain her membership in Girls Who Won't.

You might say, she took matters in her own hand.

But, being a classical obsessive-compulsive, she was not content merely to pleasure the lads. She has to perfect her technique. She read books: The Moron's Guide to Tantric Manual Arts, etc. She took a course at the community college. She did correspondence work with a university in Ireland.
She became increasingly adept. And soon popular. She knew how to do it well. And she was elected Homecoming Queen. She always traveled with an entourage of boys. And this prompted the interest of the other girls, who inquired into why this was to pass.

Now, being a good-natured soul, she told all and taught her technique to other girls who were interested; and they too became adept. And they all joined Girls Who Won't.

Now, it came to pass that the community experienced an astonishing improvement in their teens. Teen pregnancy went down to zero. Drinking and drugs were down. The accident rate lowered considerably. And couples returned from dates at nine o'clock and turned to their homework. This was all credited to Girls Who Won't.

The dermatologist noticed a surprising decline in the number of patients that he treated for acne.

The adults of the community breathed a collective sigh of relief. Until next August, when only half the number of boys went out for football. This was followed by the most disasterous year possible, in which the team went 0-11 and only 35 people were in the stands as they lost their final game, 0-58.

A blue ribbon commission looked into the reasons for the indolence of the boys, and eventually got at the whole truth. Since the self-respect and status of the community rides so strongly on its fortunes in football, they decided to disband Girls Who Won't and send Heather away to college.

Heather, still obsessive-compulsive, got her B.A. in physical education in three years and her Ph.D. in sociology in three more years. She is currently teaching at a prestigious Big Ten institution. And routinely receives high ratings from her students.

Dressing for the Rapture

There are some people who believe in The Rapture. According to them, Scripture prophesizes that on that day the Chosen will be raptured into Heaven while the rest who are left behind will presumably be in major bad doo-doo and perhaps dependent on FEMA helping them. These believer folks work at living a life of rectitude and living according to the Bible so that their path to The Rapture will be greased.

It occurred to me that The Rapture is a definite fashion event. What is one to wear? Traveling clothes? Sportwear? Go-to-church clothes? Obviously dressing modestly is probably de rigeur, so maybe you better ditch the demi-bra and the bare midriff outfit designed to emphasize your navel piercing. Maybe you should also wear white just to be safe, despite the increased difficulty in cleaning white garments.

And a dress, certainly. But wait! The Rapture means we're being lifted up. So maybe not a miniskirt, especially when wearing a thong underneath! Uh, I'd wear gym shorts also just to be sure. You can never tell whether St. Peter is some exercise fiend and you have to do calesthenics upon arrival at Heaven.

Which major designer provides clothes for The Rapture? I shall go to American Eagle and the Gap web sites to see what they offer in Rapturewear. Maybe the Rapture is more Banana Republic territory. Or perhaps Abercrombie and Fitch. Naw. They did the naughty ads years ago. Perhaps Victoria's Secret includes their Rapturewear in their Pink department. Oh well, I'll get my rapture-ready bras there, at least.