where the writers are
#101 A Modest Proposal.

1. Men lust after women.

2. To stop themselves lusting after women, some men want all women to wear a large black sheet and never go out without a male chaperone.

3. Times are tough, resources are scarce, and large black sheets require a lot of material.

4. A better solution would be for all men to wear a small black blindfold. This would keep them from temptation and save material.

5. To avoid falling over, blindfolded men should never venture out alone, but should always be escorted by a woman who would hold their hand and guide them.

6. This would reduce unemployment, as men without an obliging relative or accommodating female friend would have to pay somebody to take them out in public.

7. As a result, the economy would grow and we could all afford to buy large black sheets, regardless of gender.

8. Once everyone was draped in a large black sheet and lusting after women was a thing of the past, the birth rate would plummet and overpopulation would be reversed.

9. In the long-term, this would result in a crisis in the reproduction of the species.

10. To counter this, men and women would be obliged to whip off their black sheets and embark upon a sexological solution the like of which the world hasn’t seen since the whole business was dreamed up back in the Proterozoic Eon.


Actually, concealing the curvy bits and the fleshy bits and the bumpy bits is a total waste of time. I know. As a young man, I spent a year in Sudan. Emerging from the desert after eight months of celibacy, I found myself on the Ethiopian border among a lot of Eritrean refugees. The women were swathed in black robes and elaborate headgear and (as I recall, though this seems a little improbable now that I write it down) some sort of mask that reminded me of the eyepiece Catwoman wore in the TV version of Batman (I used to smoke a lot of cannabis in those days, so take this with a pinch of salt). In any case, the only visible parts of the women’s bodies were their hands, their forearms and their eyes. It was enough. I didn’t need to see any of the stuff that conventionally elicits the turning of heads and crossing of legs, even in outline. The eyes alone! I spent days stumbling about in a state of crippling tumescence. Frankly, you could have stood me in a corner with a bucket over my head and I would have filled in all the necessary details. Seeing had nothing to do with it; imagining was everything. Come to that, I don’t suppose people who happen to be blind are too pleased with the conceit that desire depends upon visible display, either.


Men lust after women.

Women lust after men.

Men lust after men.

Women lust after women.


Thank God and get over it.