RESTRAINT: A PERSONAL CHOICE

As you know, Microsoft Start has a disturbing tendency to second guess what the computer user wishes to read. So upon opening it, in search of the victory over darkness in Georgia and Donald Trump's bad horrible no good day, I was rather surprised to see an article there entitled "Going braless: benefits and beginner advice". I am NOT a beginner. I've been entirely braless most of my life. I do not need to know about the benefits.

So, what with being male and all that, I did not click on the article.

I am not going to mansplain the benefits of going braless.

Primarily because I never considered them.

Are there actual benefits?

If any of my readers wish to weigh in on this, consider this an invitation. There is a clickable comment link underneat this post, feel free to tease all of us with your unfettered opinions on the matter. Pro or con. Just bear in mind that I'm set in my ways, and not likely to change my habits. What with being male, and, you know, all that.



Related thereto, a favourite tobacco brand advises that one of it's products is for gentlemen only. Which seems rather sexist. If I were a young lady, mid-twenties to mid thirties, I would blithely disregard that and smoke it if I wanted to. Because it's an excellent product, and taste is not segregated by gender. Sadly, we all know men who have the bad taste to smoke crap like 'Strawberry Vanilla Cream Cavendish', or "Hobbit's Weed", or similar dreck.

Brown Clunee, broken flake; "for gentlemen only". Virginia with Perique, and a whisper of Kentucky. If you examine the illustration above, you will notice that this is a painting, not a photograph. I actually do have Rattrays tins like the one shown, they changed their design about thirteen or fourteen years ago to more shiny stock with a crisp bright yellow.

Probably a sound Marketing Department decision, but like many crusty old farts I didn't like it. I prefer the old packaging. But it's still damn' fine tobacco.

If I were a young lady pipesmoker, I'd probably have to indulge in private, lest some puffy bastard male chauvenist make sexist remarks about little girls and inappropriate behaviour, or sneer that I couldn't possibly know how to do it. Responding appropriately (i.e., with ultra violence and a baseball bat or chainsaw) would cause legal problems, and kind of ruin the mood. Smoking a pipe is supposed to be a calm and peaceful indulgence.


As, every Tuesday evening per ancient personal tradition it is, prior to meeting the bookseller for drinkies at two or three dives. It prepares the mind for the wailing chaos at the karaoke place. Howls, outer darkness, souls in torment.

Tonight's dulcetry was Mainland propaganda for the People's Liberation Army, alternating with Girls Just Want To Have Fun and The Eagles. Along with Besame Mucho sung in a language other than the text on screen.

For your information, neither pipesmokers nor booksellers sing.
We don't have to. And we maintain admirable gravitas.
We're not Marketing Department Yuppies.


Bralessness is not a factor in any of this.
It's just a fortuitous coincidence.
We can control ourselves.



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