House of Eratosthenes

First of all, it’s fun to keep an eye on Hooters. That’s the whole point of Hooters, to be fun to watch. At this blog, we like to watch nice-lookin’ girls half our age wearing skimpy outfits, because we happen to be a middle-aged lusty straight red-blooded guy.

But more important than that, there are millions of people who think there’s something bad about nice-lookin’ young ladies wearing skimpy outfits. The “Cover ‘Em Up” brigade, is made up of a whole bunch of disparate, subordinate parts from different walks of life…and although many among them are nice people with golden hearts, we here at the Blog That Nobody Reads like to avoid them all. Some of them are tighty-righty religious fundamentalists who like to decide what others should find fun. Some of them are insecure pudgy housewives who like to hold everyone around them responsible for their own insecurities. Others fancy themselves to be “feminists,” and think that gives them a license to decide what men should find attractive and what men should find disgusting. Others are lefty-loosie men who are trying, rather pathetically, to score dates with the forementioned control-freak feminists, and are pretending to be repulsed and disgusted by attractive young women.

We think that is, in the classical vernacular, an abomination in the eyes of The Lord. Men are designed to like women, and if you don’t buy into that, insisting instead that only some flavors of men are designed to like women, then you’ll have to agree that such men are designed to like pretty women. I just can’t think of anything less controversial than “nice-looking is better than ugly.” Yet controversial it is, and for an explanation as to why, don’t look here.

I can’t say very much good about Hooter’s food. Sure it is tasty, and I suppose the meat could, conceivably, be greasier…but a trip to Hooter’s is a special occasion, and the food doesn’t justify the special occasion. I like the pretty girls and the cold beer. But the number one appeal for me, by far, is that the “Cover ‘Em Up” brigade will not be there. They have no business being there. Outside of the restaurant, you must realize, the brigade is omnipresent…if any one among their number is not around, someone with some authority over things is terrified that they may be around or may arrive at any second. So in 2006, if you happen to like pretty young girls in skimpy outfits, you have to pretend you don’t. It goes much further than not hanging swimsuit calendars on the wall. Nowadays, to even swivel your head around hard enough to throw your neck out, when a pretty girl with big tits jogs by in her itty-bitty jogging outfit — as all of our fathers and grandfathers did — is verboten. Stigmatized. Frowned-upon. Nowadays, we all keep our eyes-up-front, or wear glacier-goggles…or both.

That, too, is an abomination in the eyes of The Lord. We’re built to want to look at tits. Satan didn’t give us that instinct, God did. We’re supposed to have it. Allowing for the always-implied, never-outright-stated premise that this is an evil thing, one must conclude none of us belong here, for if man didn’t have the drive then none of us would be here. To coerce straight men into pretending they dislike pretty girls, is a reprehensible thing. It is denial of the machinery to which all human beings owe their very existence. It is not the way we, as a Godly conglomerate, are supposed to work. This kind of coercion is not quite up to hanging Christ on the cross, but it’s certainly on par with taking The Lord’s name in vain. It is an insult to the forces which raised us from oblivion, without which we would be nothing.

But I digress. Hooters, it seems, is guilty of false advertising. Their motto is “delightfully tacky, yet unrefined.” In all the years since I have come to be aware of them, they have consistently shown themselves to be classy — not only at corporate HQ, but in the restaurants themselves. Hundreds of them. Consistently. No small feat by any means.

And with regard to this emerging FEMA scandal — you’ve all heard it, I’m sure, where a Katrina evacuee used a FEMA card to purchase a bottle of Dom Perignon at Hooters — the CEO is going to send the money back. He doesn’t want any of that dirty FEMA-fraud money in the Hooters till.

The Hooters restaurant chain is looking for FEMA’s address.

Company Chairman Bob Brooks said Thursday that he wants to reimburse the agency for the $200 bottle of Dom Perignon Champagne that was purchased with a government credit card issued to Hurricane Katrina victims.

The champagne, purchased in San Antonio, was among numerous examples of improper spending of hurricane relief money cited earlier this week by Congress’ Government Accountability Office. The bogus spending could be as high as $1.4 billion, the GAO said.

In an announcement in Atlanta, Brooks said: “It bothers me as an American that resources that were intended to help victims of this tremendous tragedy were spent this way. Even if it’s in my restaurants it’s still not right. If FEMA will let me know where to send the check I’ll get the $200 out right away.”

Following Katrina, Brooks sent one of his Hooters Air 737s loaded with supplies into the Gulf Coast disaster area. The restaurant chain also donated $225,000 to the Red Cross Katrina relief fund.

Yes, the Hooters corporation will not feel $200. That is not the point. The point is this: Bob Brooks did not have to make the offer. Bob Brooks didn’t even have to dredge the issue up all over again. He did anyway, because the delightfully tacky cash registers are too clean for that kind of money. Bob Brooks, and by extension his fine establishment, has more class in his little toe than the chubby goth chicks and religious fundamentalists and guilty-white-liberal-males who are part of the “Cover ‘Em Up” brigade, have in their whole smelly, flabby bodies.

Hooters will not point it out because — once again — they have class. They’re not about arguing over skimpy costumes, they are about service. Well, I’m all about smarmy remarks, so I’ll point it out. I’m sitting here, just speculating mind you, but I’m betting if any of the jealous frumpy housewives with hyphenated names, or the religious whackos, got ahold of $200 of dirty FEMA money, they’d go ahead and keep it. Because the “Cover ‘Em Up” brigade isn’t about higher morals, they only pretend to be. That’s the plain truth of it.

Prove me wrong.

The accompanying pic is *priceless*, Morgan! If any given picture sez 1,000 words, this one says 10,000.

Good stuff!
- Buck Pennington | 06/16/2006 @ 12:11

Leave a Reply

You must be logged in to post a comment.

Recent

Items of Interest

Monthly Archives

What They Say

Links

Class ActFriday, June 16th, 2006

Class Act
Friday, June 16th, 2006