Remember when that comedian turned congressman resigned because of a rumor that he touched a womun’s butt? Al Franken. He did no wrong, but those were the days, long ago and far away, when we still had a touch of shame. Liberals had to be ever so careful to fit into the un-sexed modality that was currently fashionable.
No one wanted to admit they liked or ever performed sex. And by no means could we admit that men were attracted to wimmin in a sexual manner. Not the good people. Those were the days. Just three million, one hundred fifty five thousand, six hundred ninety five minutes ago, we know the limits of shame.
3,155,695
Before explicit sex and violent murder, on screen, in detail, was fully normalized, we were embarrassed to transgress social norm of supposed sexism. Public nudity was a no-no until men took hormones, grew a set of mams then paraded them around on the white house lawn. No shame in that. Pride, actually.
In those days, cagillions of seconds ago, we still had a small bit of personal privacy. Those were the days in which we had not yet fully exposed the camel toe. We were still hiding our clam shell under a well placed tunic. We girls loved our leggings, but not with our butts hanging out the back door or the little boat girl peeking out.
But nowaday, as wimmin rise to prominence we display our feminine Codpiece and our back doors for all to see. We are proud.
Discretion; humility no more. Huzzah!
The blackmailers will have to find another avenue for social shame, because as far as I can tell, these days, there is no shame.
Let me know if you have any shame left!
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