Want people to read? Need road-side assistance? Flash your headlights.


How deeply do humans thirst to share their thoughts about literature? The Outdoor Co-Ed Topless Pulp Fiction Appreciation Society–a real entity, recently celebrated in the media; I could not invent something so degenerate–offers an answer. Young women congregate to bare their souls about books, while baring their breasts. Anyone who suggests that they are drawn together by anything but naked intelligence is sexist. 

I don't understand why humans like to show those things off—the way they protrude and hang, as if by a cruel misstep of evolution. But people love to look at them. My question is: if you want to display your tits, can't you just do it? Why do you have to drag books into it? What have they ever done to be so humiliated?

Herein are the scholars. I know you are looking at them so you can guess what books they are reading and what the conference about them was like. Otherwise you'd just be some kind of pervert. 

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If you've gotten this far: SHAME ON YOU!

(Courtesy of Numbers the roach.)

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