Ever since concealed estrus has hit humanity, there seems to me there's been a fuckload (ptp) of fascination put into 'figuring it out' and simulating fecundity. You know all about what I'm talking about. What an evolutionary marker that was, eh? How much of our current has been directed by that seemingly innocuous bioinnovation? Deep down though, waaaay down deep, we can still smell it. Like the bag of bagels stinking up our shoe-vestibule as I type (smells like poo), it's there and we've forgotten how to access it, like a vestigious scents-sense (ok, so it's nothing like a bag of bagels). The Japanese have a line of pheremonally prelaced underwear out there.. and they're marketed pretty much exclusively at men. Also, I read on the BBC that female mice actually prefer male mice with the scent of other females on them. Hormones baby, hormones.
So, I don't know what I can do about any of this really. I'd love to blow the whistle, open up the competitive market and then get my ass advertised back to me, but it's already there methinks, just without the methodological backing. Big bucks for anyone who can prove it so. Or maybe I should just move to the moon and spend my time in my moonbase burning incense and rubbing female mice against my body until I feel desirably smelly enough to return to Earth.
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Aural grafiti from Miami...
- 'Do you boss me around because I am a girl? Or because I am an employee?' 'Exactly!'
- 'Gary doesn't drink water. He says it gives him heartburn'
- 'Did you say you like nasty but don't like breast?' 'No, I said I like Nestea, but don't like Brisk.'
- 'I can make dragons out of pubic hair'
- Of my recent Lex Lutherization: 'That was a bald move'