Weatherwise, Washington yesterday was like living deep in a lung. Moist and spongy, the sky refused to yield any real rain. It seemed like car alarms were constantly going off, little baying idiot animals like the urban version of hunting dogs left too long in locked pick-up trucks. I'm on an anti-city kick, resenting DC's every honk and squeal, still pissed off at the scam artist who tried to turn a profit on altruism a couple nights ago. Yesterday morning a friend sent me an email confirming that another fellow in the neighborhood had recently been the subject of a similar tale and teller at a like hour of the late night. The whole thing disgusts me. I've been infected with an urban disease that gradually destroys the human ability to respond kindly and unselfconsciously to another person's need for help.

Walking down the street, I no longer perceive what I once saw. The homeless are like hazy ghost-images on the edges of my screens; I whack the television set and jiggle the cable to try and make them go away. I have constructed the necessary urban defenses to contain any human response toward them. Worse yet, this self-recriminating barrage accomplishes nothing. If I'm not willing to act on this momentary break in the transmission of status quo programming, I should just be quiet and acquiesce to desensitization. Given time, the simmering needs of so many of my fellow citizens will again blend into background static.

To facilitate my passage back into willful ignorance, on to some other random topics:

Lately I've been wondering just what in a human being's genetics and upbringing cause them to be attracted to certain body types over others. For example, despite clear social reinforcement that red-blooded males prefer huge breasted women, I have always been more intrigued with small boobs. Where in my social conditioning did I fail to be excited by the overinflated humongoes of Playboy mags? I certainly snuck enough looks in my formative years to perceive a clear sexual mandate: big boobs = good. There is also an alleged biological imperative at work, in that large mammaries imply a superior ability to nourish offspring. But somehow, the message failed to stick. I'm generally attracted to the more compact phenotype of the less genetically fit.

Oddly enough, I now tend to make the assumption that men who fall for the gravitational field of large breasts are less intelligent than those who are stimulated by the smaller variety. I have no idea where this random piece of stereotyping comes from, either. Perhaps the dumber members of the species have to make up in boob size the evolutionary advantage they lose by being ineffective tool makers.

There is no doubt in my mind that such consistent social construction of the erogenous affects our perceptions. When I first went to Senegal, I was far more fascinated with breasts than, say, legs, another typically erogenized portion of the anatomy. There, I found myself in a culture in which breasts were often left unclad, perceived more as functional tools for childrearing than the mysterious and lovely hidden wonders I knew them to be. On the other hand, legs were the sought-after commodity: women were expected to cover their legs above the knee, and a glimpse of thigh was a rare thing of beauty. In this environment, I found myself changing the focal points of my attractions. Boobs became increasingly run-of-the-mill, legs arousing. The denial of frequent glimpses of leg was a potent enough force to generate a change in my erotic responses. It was fascinating and not a little disturbing to witness my own sexual reprogramming. Furthermore, some of it stuck with me. Back in the land of hidden breasts and exposed thighs, I still see legs in a way I never did before.

On a vaguely related note, last night I came up with a great idea for a new section of this site. It will be a quiz game called "Cheeks and Chins Challenge" which invites viewers to match a small picture of someone's ass to the corresponding person's chin. It may not sound like much fun now, I promise it will be a laff riot. Now all I have to do is ask all my friends to let me take pictures of their butts and chins to build up a suitable database of images. No other identifying anatomical references will be included, allowing the featured asses to cling to the remaining shreds of their privacy. For the record, I bear no particular fetishistic attachment to either of these body parts. It's just all in good fun!

I'm not sure how my acquaintances will react to this. I hope that they'll be as fascinated by the project and its huge humor potential as I am, but many of them weren't even particularly overwhelmed by our "ancient foods" dinner party, so I'm not so sure.

Naturally, if you and your friends want to help out by submitting images, just email for information about the few technical specifications and how to participate. It could be a great outlet for you closet exhibitionists out there. And think of how proud you'll be to see your own ass featured in the Seven Deadly Sins homepage! Naturally, everyone's privacy and anonymity will be respected, and any records of whose ass is whose deleted. In truth, I doubt anyone out there will really feel compelled to take part, but I have to try. It will be a shame to let such a great idea go to waste merely because of some antiquated notions of personal boundaries.