Why Buy The Cow When You Can Get The Milk For Free?

Those two nice Catholic boys, Irish Elk and Basil Seal, under the guise of being art fanicers, have been exploring the female form lately. The unadorned female form. Now, one can say whatever ever makes your boat float and press on in the blogosphere while muttering "I hope their tailor is outfitting them with asbestos boxers." and be done with it. But when am I ever content to be done with it? Especially when another nice Catholic boy who's been watching the antics of Irish Elk and Basil Seal sent an email to my inbox, as well as the Card's wife's inbox, containing more 'artistic' pictures of one of the fallen women Irish Elk and Basil have fixated on.

There is a simple truth about art. It is much more difficult to paint a decent picture of a clothed woman than an unclothed one. No matter what lies Hugh Hefner has spun for the last 40 years while making billions this truth holds with photography and film. The reason is obvious by just looking at the reaction Irish Elk and Basil Seal are causing. Since the days of the Greek poets, people, especially men, go all ga-ga when they see a woman without her clothes on. They don't give a fig about compostion, proportion, or techinical ability. They only care that a fig leaf is not obscuring vital details of their 'artistic' enjoyment.

So, if you want to see mediocre pictures of fallen crazy women who spent the better part of their lives in great mental distress, visit Irish Elk's and Basil Seal's sites. From what I've gathered, Basil will sometime later today have a red velvet swing installed in his blog for young bloggers of the fallen female persuassion to cavort upon. If you are a true fancier of art and lovely women, here are some lovely pictures to set your gaze upon; 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. (in the last two compare the babe wrapped in roses in the advertisement to the ladies in the paintings and ask yourself, which one would you prefer to see adjusting her hat?) The artist, Frank Weston Benson, was one of the best painters of women. His flesh tones have no rivals plus he hailed from Massachusetts. On top of all that goodness, he and his models were respectable members of society. Further proof that being a tortured pervert is not a necessary component to being a good artist.

Now one more truth that most modern women do not like to hear, it does not matter how much money or fame you acquire, if you lose your virtue, you've got nothing. While the lives of countless women depict this simple truth, perhaps, the one who has depicted it best lately is the late Princess of Wales, Diana. She was born into privilege, married even more privileged, took on a series of lovers, and died in a Paris tunnel on her way to spend the night at the former home of a woman, Wallis Simpson, who willingly bedded Nazis in Wallis's own unending attempt for fame, power and money. Some legacy. It came as little surprise after Diana's death to learn that, as a young girl, she used to regularly tell people she wanted to be a superstar when she grew up.

Now one last warning to Irish Elk and Basil Seal, if you two corrupt the Card's wife's future son-in-law, Andrew Cusack, then we will not hesitate in reporting you to the Vatican.

Mrs. P

Comments

[Card's wife]

Mrs. P, I think we should look through the Patum Perperium photo archives and find an artistic photo to our liking.

I happen to know that there is one in there of Fiendish in a speedo standing at the bar at the NYAC with a large Korean gentleman in black tie pointing toward the exit.

Do you suppose this would qualify as art? After all, he is dripping wet. And that Korean does add a note of diversity. Which all seems terribly artsy to me.

[Mrs. Peperium]

No. I think we need to dig deeper and find one of Fiendish at the NYAC's Turkish bath. That would be art. A well as one of old Basil boy wearing just his boots. The new Davids.

[Card's wife]

Or how about one with Irish Elk on home plate wearing only a Red Sox baseball cap leaning against his Louisiana Slugger.

[Andrew Cusack]

"No. I think we need to dig deeper and find one of Fiendish at the NYAC's Turkish bath."

Found it:

http://www.cinempire.com/multimedia/blimp/images/04.jpg

or is it this one:

http://www.dvdbeaver.com/film/DVDReview/colonelblimp/steamingblimp.jpg

(Apologies to Mssrs. Powell and Pressburger)

[Dr Pluto (doctor to the stars)]

You do realize, Mrs P, that you are dealing with men who thoroughly enjoy being taken to the woodshed. Your chastisement will only result in their becoming ever naughtier in the hope that you may invite them over for an in-person spanking.

[Card's wife]

Sounds like this is going to be war. Prepare yourself Mrs. P. Get your uniform on. Or do I mean off?

[Mrs. Peperium]

That would depend on your defintion of art. Did you know that soon after the turn of the century, Carl Jung came to the island in Maine I spent the summers of my youth on. He was invited by the wealthy nut case daughters of a family down what has been long called 'Maiden Row' as it was the maiden aunts in all the families that built the orignal cottages. Carl brought a few men with him. They all ran around the island, as Basil would say, neekkid. It wasn't done for artistic reasons but for "greater consciousness" of themselves. Yeah, a bunch of Swiss guys heading into their 40's got a bunch of debutantes to shed their clothes and cavort like harbor seals on the rocks. What is conscious about that?

About 20 years ago, the family showed me the photos from that visit. All of them were fully clothed. The girls were wearing buttons from their necks all the way down to their ankles. I've never seen so many buttons. Plus all of them were sitting like unnatural stuffed prigs on rocks staring out at sea. Not one of them were touching each other. In fact, they were all anywhere from a 1 to 3 feet apart with zero smiles and no hint of relaxation what so ever. They look quite queer and unnatural. The contrast is enormous from the photos of my 'maiden' aunts from that summer, especially since my maiden aunts were rather long in the tooth by then. The old maidens, though devoid of bloom and in advanced years hadn't lost their ability to smile while the harbor seal debutantes appeared as if they were formed out of marble. Much like the trajectory of today's Dixie Chicks. It would hurt those girls to actually smile...

[Card]

My goodness, Mrs P, what a small world it is. Imagine running into the Colonel the other evening outside of the Rugby Grill and then seeing a picture of him at the Turkish Bath posted by Andrew?

(And, no, I DON'T mean Col. Blimp)

[Mrs. Peperium]

Men do land their Harriers in the strangest places...

[Debbie]

Those are some lovely paintings, Mrs. P., but you do know the boys today wouldn't care a thing about them. We've raised a generation of heathens with no class or breeding, who lust after images of the naked female ... and the access is right at their fingertips, on their computers, in their bedrooms. Ah for the days of a smidge of modesty...

[Mrs. Peperium]

Very true Debbie. Margaret Mead would be so pleased...

[Mitsy Cabot Vanderholt]

Mrs. P, I am just appalled that these people would be displaying the sorts of pictures you've described. I am correct in assuming them to be nudey pictures am I not? Shocking! You have every right to lecture them. We all have a responsibility to remember that young people are on these computers all the time. I know my grandchildren are. They actually use them right in their schools these days. Now imagine if they should happen upon one of these terrible nudey blogs? It would be awful.

My son and grandson have both told me that there is all sorts of filth on the internet, but honestly, I had no idea.

By the way, I keep trying to find this blog named Basil Seal but I haven't been able to. I am sure I have been there before, but I can't remember how I did it. How would I go about finding it? I'm just curious to know what decent people are up against you understand. You do remember that he's the man who was saying some very forward and suggestive things to me just a few weeks ago.

[Mrs. Peperium]

Basil can be found at Man About Mayfair. Approach him carefully. His blog has artfully-placed mirrors that enable him to see up the skirts of female bloggers.

[Fiendish]

Yes, Basil is a cyber-devil if ever there was one.

[Andrew Cusack]

Poltroonery afoot! Let me flee this place of ill-repute...

[Mitsy Cabot Vanderholt]

Thank you for your help, Mrs. P. I did find Man About Mayfair. My word, what free-for-all of what my father used to call bawdiness. I must say, however, that I did not find the sort of licentiousness I had been led to believe there would be. Can you tell me, is there some particular blog place that you find especially inappropriate? Something that my grandson might refer to as "hard core." I really think it's up to all of us to stay up on these matters. One should always know their enemy, don't you agree?

[Mrs. Peperium]

Hard core? You could try Andrew Cusack's blog.

[Card's wife]

Outrageous!

[Mrs. Peperium]

No, only cheeky. Like Louise Brooks cheeky...

[MCNS]

I admit it. I'm addicted to Internet Saint-Gaudens. (Sob!)

[Mrs. Peperium]

Well then you need the Evelyn Nesbit label pin;

http://www.eparks.com/eparks/product.asp?id=135603&park=468

Isn't it a curiosity that the man who designed the most attractive American coins had a profile remarkably similiar to Abe Lincoln?

I used to walk by his Shaw Memorial frequently. But it took marrying Mr. P to appreciate it fully.

[Basil Seal]

Could you ask Mrs. C-V to stand next time she visits, it's awfully had to see anything whilst she is sitting...

[Basil Seal]

So sorry, that would be 'hard' to see...

[Mitsy Cabot Vanderholt]

Mrs. P. is that awful man refering to me? Am I C-V? I have the terrible feeling that I am. Tell me, how does he know when I've been on his blog? It's almost frightening. You know, I've always noticed that dirty men are deceptively clever. I wonder why that is. Have you ever had occasion to look one of these filthy buggers right in the eye? I swear, they will stare straight back at you just bold as brass. And they will smile at you just like they're reading your mind or looking right through your clothing. It just sends a chill up my spine to think of it.

Tell me something, how old do you suppose this Basil character is? And please be honest, don't joke at me the way you did with that Mr. Cusack.

[Mrs. Peperium]

Well, I've never thought that Hugh Hefner or Larry Flint were deceptively clever. Basil does differ from those two in that he still has all his own teeth. Having all your own teeth is important when you're a lech. When a lech is is busy undressing a woman with his eyes, there is nothing that will spoil his fun faster than to have his overactive saliva glands cause his falsies to become unglued and drop to the ground faster than a peignoir.

Basil and I are the same age. In fact he recently celebrated his birthday. Perhaps you two should meet for a drink to celebrate and straighten him out?