"WARNING": The following rant has been rated "R" for multiple references to anatomical parts, sexuality, blatant feminism, and the rampant use of quotation marks to denote sarcasm. Children under the age of 17 should read this in the company of a parent or adult guardian. Thank you.

You read the heading correctly. I'm gonna talk about breasts. Boobies. Tits. Funbags. Teats. Mammaries. Squeezy joy-balloons. Whatever you wanna call them, today we're gonna talk about them.

As the proud owner of a pair for the past twelve years, I'd like to state first off that breasts are awesome. Think about it. They're almost like snowflakes in a way. Like the women they come attached to, they come in all shapes and sizes. Some are big, some are small. Some are perky, some are flat. Some are round, some are more triangular in shape. But most amazingly, these simple biological collections of fatty tissue and glands have managed to gain a reputation that far surpasses their practical applications. Over the centuries breasts have been a source of joy and mystery, they've inspired desire and passion as well as envy and awe. And, most recently, they've been the topic of controversy and scandal.

I know we've all been inundated with the following story for the past month, so I'll just touch on it briefly and only to put the rest of this rant into some sort of contemporary perspective. Janet Jackson's (Miss Jackson, if you're nasty) bare-breasted antics at this year's Super Bowl whipped up a frenzy of media excitement and discussion about decency. It's incredible, simply incredible, that during an election year and during a time when we're slowly discovering that our president actually lied to our country about his reasons for going to war, we have decided to get insanely upset about the showing of a breast---one single breast, mind you, not even a whole set---on television. Was it the audacity of a woman to assert her sexuality and femininity that we found so upsetting? Or perhaps it's a by-product of our sexually repressed society that required such an outcry. Whatever the reason, I'm convinced that the reaction to Miss Jackson's performance is hugely disproportionate to the actual act.

Come on, folks! We know that tits exist! I mean, a large percentage of the population is female and a large percentage of those females have reached the age where they can proudly own their very own pair of breasts. I bet even your own mother has a set, am I right? And these days, especially after the explosive women's rights movement of the 1960's, combined with the elements of cable TV and rated R movies, one would have to've been blind from birth not to have seen a tit or two in their lifetime. We see breasts in great works of art, bobbing down the street, in the grocery store, at the mall, and even [gasp!] in our own homes. Even chickens have breasts! Let's face it, guys; boobs are everywhere and there's no escape.

Breasts are, first and foremost, functional. It may be a little hard for some people to understand this, but they actually have a specific and very non-sexual purpose. All female mammals have breasts. They serve no other use in nature than to provide food for babies. That's it. Breasts produce milk, babies drink the milk, the species survives and we can all go home happy. Outside of this one function, humans (and humans alone, mind you) have given other less tangible purposes for our chestal outcroppings. They've been exhibited in works of art to represent beauty and femininity. Some men obsess over them like they were some sort of sacred relics, objects to be discovered and relished with near-religious fervor. We have an entire line of clothing---bras---designed to best highlight and present our breasts to the public . . . in a "decent" and "proper" way, of course.

I once asked one of my guy friends why breasts are so fascinating to men. He replied, "It's because we don't have them. Do you want another beer?" And he was right. Not about the beer, but about the boobs. Women, you have a special gift. Your breasts are symbols of your individuality, not only the individuality of your sex but of you as a person. You are the only woman in the world with your breasts. Love them! Revel in the glory and wonder of them! Men are proud of their dicks; be proud of your tits! You have them, and you have power over them. Don't let anyone ever tell you what you can and cannot do with them. It's time for all women in the world to begin celebrating these cool, fun, and wonderful attributes of ours.

But maybe I'm getting a little off-track.

Let's explore for a moment why breasts have become a symbol of controversy and shock in our society. To do this, I'll go back to the beginning. Well, the religious Christian beginning at any rate. Let's say it out loud now, while our country may be a "melting pot," Christianity is the unspoken official religion of the United States; sorry, but it is. So we'll start there. In the beginning (as that book so famously says) Adam and Eve wandered around naked without shame. All the bits and pieces were there, revealed, displayed without thought to whether or not it was dirty or indecent. Then Eve ate from the tree of knowledge, "tricked" Adam into eating as well, and suddenly the wickedness of their nudity became evident. And, thus, the smear campaign against women and their mammaries began. Lust became a sin, and the Christian church labeled sexual desire (the most natural desire in the world, a desire that breasts so often spawn) naughty and dirty. We're taught that nudity is all right only for the ignorant. So, because we're such an "enlightened" and "knowledgeable" society, the breast is now an object of shame and something to be covered up, never to be discussed in polite company. So when we actually get to see one, or even two, bared in front of the world, uncovered and blatantly shown without apology, it subconsciously triggers that religious button in our brain that says "what I am seeing is sexual and therefore wrong." It's this button that inspires disgust in us when we see a woman breast-feeding her child in a public place and makes it so---to use a really bad pun---titilizing when we catch an unintentional glimpse of one belonging to a stranger. Strip clubs make millions every year simply by giving men the chance to see the unclothed breasts of strange women.

Ladies, it's this subconscious shame that makes our chests such a powerful weapon. Throughout history women have used their breasts to attract men, make political statements, and assert themselves in society. Fashion designers devote their entire careers to finding the best way to show them off. By covering them up, we've bestowed upon them an almost supernatural quality. And it's only through open discussion and public exposure (both literally and metaphorically) that we can dispel the wicked quality---another bad pun coming up, sorry---endowed to this perfectly natural and wonderful part of our anatomy.

So, in closing, tits are fuckin' great. They will continue to be fuckin' great, and we must all learn that no matter how much we may vilify them, they're not goin' anywhere. So, ladies, love your breasts. Men, they're special, but not worthy of your obsession so calm down. And everyone, try to get yourself a pair and quit worrying about everyone else's.

Until next time, kiddos.

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