Lemme Tell You about Butts. . .

A lot has been going through my mind regarding this blog lately. I've become lazier and lazier with each post, barely meeting my self-imposed Sunday night deadline. Skipping a week has been a frequent thought, but I'm smart enough to realize that if I skip one week six times in a row, that's actually six weeks I've skipped.
 

The world isn't gonna end if I skip a post, or if I stop this blog altogether. But I like to think that there are some people who care about this, so I keep trudging on. Yes, I have plenty of ideas, it's just getting them all typed that causes me a reason for discomfort. Typing like 700 words? That's haaaaard. Who ever wants to do that much work? Heck, most of us have probably procrastinated on those 50-word short-answer paragraphs our easier teachers or professors claim is homework. “Name your favorite movie and explain why” becomes a terrifyingly long prompt.

 

This isn't another post about my allergy to effort. It's something I've been sitting on for awhile, something I'm finally buckling down to write about: butts. And I'm very sorry about the pun; I definitely hope we can put that behind us. Geez, I don't even know how to avoid them. I know they stink, so let's just move on before it happens again.

Adapted from a comic at neowin.net                            

Thank you. 

   

Butts, in essence, are an absurd body part, when you consider what they do and how they look. For whatever reason, there is some sort of erotic fascination with them, and certain types are more desirable accordingly. There's no real indication toward preference, big or small, hairy or smooth as a baby's, uh, bottom, but the prevailing opinion is that the larger the better. (You can think of Sir Mix-a-Lot with this, seeing as how he wrote a song dedicated to huge butts.)

 

For many, it is fortunate that this is so, because the butt is the largest muscle set in the body. There are three parts to it: maximus, medius and minimus. (Helpful hint: biking works all three of these, especially the minimus, so if you want a perky posterior. . . hop on a bike.)

 

I'm choosing to lead off with that really crappy fact so it can lead into one that is actually pretty funny:

 

Big butts may make you live longer.

 

It's true! A study conducted in Denmark (and then followed-up in the UK) explains that larger, typically fattier, rear-ends can increase lifespan for a number of reasons.

 

First, it may indicate a faster metabolism, because it shows that fat collects not on the stomach and upper body (that's where your heart, lungs and other organs are, in case you forgot) but on the glutes and thighs. When men become couch potatoes around age 40, you'll notice they grow a paunch, or as it's more formally known, a beer gut. On the other hand, women gain a proportionally larger amount of weight lower in their body, centering around their hips. This could explain how the average female's lifespan is longer than men's by a few years, if their metabolism is faster.

 

Similarly, when fat collects on the lower body, it doesn't impede the sufferer from much. But when it's on the upper body, the heart is constricted by layers of blubber, and arteries scream in pain until it overtakes the area in a brief, brutal war. Imagine a fat guy getting stuck in a doorway: in both situations, fatness greatly hinders movement .

 

This is a really roundabout way of saying to trim your tummy and let your south side expand. Again, Sir Mix-a-Lot only thinks about women's health when he performs “Baby Got Back.”

                                                    flypapermagazine.com                    

                               Maybe next he'll start performing breast exams.
 

Finally, the greatest thing about butts in the history of the universe: rumpology. A few posts ago, I analyzed the Forer Effect, and how asinine it is. Now, I'm going to glorify something rather similar, because it is just the most hysterical idea.

 

Rumpology is exactly what you'd think it is: it is the study of rumps. Only, not as a legitimate science. Much like phrenology, “readers” can determine a patient's past doings and future happenings based on the shape, folds, wrinkles, crevices, dimples, creases, moles and hemorrhoids of their butt.

 

One particular reader of this hilarious pseudoscience will even do a consultation for you! All you have to do is send a picture of your rump to her, along with $250, and she will tell you your fortune, just as regular psychics do. It's that easy.

 
This is not to say that psychics and professional rumpologists are the same thing, however. Sheree Silver, a psychic from Florida, has been quoted saying, “I can't imagine anyone wasting their time and money on someone like this when there are so many legitimate psychics out there.” 
 

Legitimate psychics. The official description of butt reading is “the art of reading the lines, crevices, dimples, and folds of the buttocks to divine the butt owner's character and get a glimpse of what lies ahead by analyzing what trails behind.” (My goodness, another butt pun. How can there be so many??) How could there possibly be any psychic more legitimate than that practitioners of that terse manifesto? 
 

Rumpology, guys. It's the way of the future, and it all stems from your little (or perhaps large) seat warmer.
 

 

And that's the magic of butts, as far as I can see it.