How Do You Solve A Problem Like Billy Bigelow?

I’ve run into a lot of people (my parents, teachers, cast mates) who seem to straight up despise the musical, Carousel.  This is often due to their loathing of the character, Billy Bigelow, the song “Soliloquy,” or both.  

Show: Carousel

Year: 1945

Music: Richard Rogers

Book & Lyrics: Oscar Hammerstein II

Based On: Ferenc Molnár's 1909 play, Liliom

Sure, I’ll admit Billy’s not exactly in the running for Husband/Father/Friend/Employee/Man of the Year.  He’s a rude, aggressive, unsavory, insensitive, emotionally unstable deadbeat.  He hits his wife (once!), he snubs people who try to help him (but on the other hand, Mr. Snow is kind of a tool), he doesn’t work out of pride, and he (badly) resorts to robbery.  I get it; he’s not a likeable guy.  But nonetheless, I am here to make a defensive case on Billy’s and “Soliloquy’s” behalf.  I think the sum of Carousel and all its parts are a lot more complex than people make it out to be.  There is no black-and-white, good-or-bad in Carousel. There are fierce internal battles at work here and I venture now to bring them to light.  

The Song

I can understand the general disdain for the song, “Soliloquy.”  Carousel is a musical, not an opera.  Yet, in the middle of this long-ass musical, with drawn-out, boring dialogue, we are subjected to a long-ass monologue-set-to-music that clocks in at roughly 7 and a half minutes. Sure, it’s a lot of emotion to cover, but does it have to be a 7 and a half minute song???  Well actually, yes.  Can you imagine how boring that thought trail would be if it was all just spoken?  It wouldn’t be nearly as affective without the combination of vocals and music moving it along. Plus, like I’ve said before, the feelings Billy’s experiencing are entirely too big and too genuine and too new (to him, anyway) to be wasted as spoken words.  

In “Soliloquy,” Billy covers a lot of emotions in response to the news that he’s going to be a father.  Any man who’s going to have a kid typically spends WAY more than 7 and a half minutes contemplating the prospects of fatherhood, so quit judging the song’s length!  He begins with the joys and excitement of raising a son. He anticipates the adventures they’ll have together and the potential futures his son might aspire to. He then speculates the solemn responsibility of bringing up a daughter. He comes to appreciate her transformation from a treasure that needs protection into a beautiful, virtuous woman like her mother. Finally, he desperately resolves to make sure that his child will be well provided for (cuz seriously, how does a family of 3 survive on a carousel barker’s salary in this economy?). 

Here with a condensed rendition is the delicious Trevor Gunn!

The Character

Billy Bigelow is and interesting specimen. He’s what is now known as a BAMF.  His F***-You-If-You-Don’t-Get-Me attitude turns a lot of people off.  However, those who make an effort to really know what he’s about have a better understanding of his psyche.  He’s obviously not from the right side of the tracks. He’s an alpha male and a lone wolf.  He’s not your conventional “Howdy, Neighbor!” kind of guy.  He’s introverted and withdrawn from the “June Is Bustin’ Out All Over!” mentality of his community.  He has a lot of trouble letting people in and constructively expressing himself.  His heart’s in the right place, but something often goes wrong somewhere between thought and action.  And when his attempts fail, he gets broody and all but gives up.  He decides to team up with his even-bigger-deadbeat friend to rob a serious wad-o-cash from Ol’ Sideburns.  Once again, his intentions are good, but his method of execution and actions are totally wrong.  On the other hand, he’s not the only person to resort to a life of crime in the name of family life. 

There are few redeeming qualities Billy presents during the show. However, that ends up being what the conclusion of Carousel is all about. Redemption can come in many forms.  Billy is able to redeem his family’s future by showing his wife and daughter that they can “walk on with hope in your heart and you’ll never walk alone.”  The first and only words of wisdom he teaches his child are actually very valuable. Probably the most valuable thing for her to know: He (with the help of the Starkeeper) reassures his child that even though her father was a screw-up (which he finally realizes now), even though the world deals you a shitty hand and you’re born into a life of loneliness and ostracism and roadblocks, she can make her own way in the world and be a better person than he was.  

You may say “too little too late” perhaps.  Little Louise has had to endure 15 years of “Your daddy was an ass and you will be too.”  And that’s a real tough hole to crawl out of not be scarred for life. But Billy gives her that hope to persevere at the end of the show.  He tells her that it is possible to rise above really harsh adversity and be a standup person.  His redemption may be viewed as small and inadequate in comparison to the repellent life he led, but it was effective and very selfless. He finally does right by his child AND his wife.

The Show

And don’t even get me started on poor Julie!  Julie Jordan is a queer one, indeed.  She is very in touch with who her husband is/was and how he functions. Anti-Carousel people also find fault with her for staying in an abusive relationship, unhealthily stating how a physical strike doesn’t hurt at all if it’s delivered by your feller, whom you love. Not a very constructive outlook, I’ll grant you.  But for the sake of musical theatre history, it’s a very significant plotline.  Musicals had never ventured to subject matter as taboo as domestic abuse.  People were shocked that such a personal, despicable theme would be portrayed in a musical.  In the midst of clambakes and amusement parks and songs praising the vernal season, out of left field screams DOMESTIC VIOLENCE!!!  

Rogers & Hammerstein were brilliant at creating these environments of seemingly perfect little slices of Heaven in their musicals (box socials and a bright, golden haze on the untarnished prairie of Oklahoma territory; mysterious, tropical paradise in the Pacific Islands; palatial grandiose in exotic Siam) and then corrupting them with the darker side of human nature. It’s such a poignant reflection of reality; there is always a dichotomy of light and dark in the world.  One cannot exist without the other. Rogers and Hammerstein also knew how to create at least one character who was very empathetic to that dichotomy, whereas all the other characters are lost in the dark (i.e. Aunt Eller, Lt. Cable, Lady Thiang). Julie is one of those characters.

Though Julie (hopefully) knows there is no excuse for hitting her, she understands that Billy is unable to cope with seeing Julie suffer as a result of his unemployment and disposition. So he lashes out and she is left to be his silent rock.  But a silent rock isn’t always the most effective rock.  Neither Billy nor Julie could ever say how they loved each other until after Billy was dead. Julie never straight up told Billy that she loved him because she was worried that he wouldn’t take her seriously. Perhaps if she had verbally slapped him with “I love you,” Billy might have acted differently while alive.  People need to hear that they are loved.  Just a fact, folks! I think Billy needed to hear it more than he needed financial stability.  Had he heard it more often, I think he might have thought better of himself and make an effort to be an honorable guy because he owes it to the people he loves. 

It may be hard to accept Carousel as more than just character or song you don’t like. But if you are willing to dig beneath the surface, you’re likely to find some very vulnerable, perhaps even relatable subject matter.  But if you just can’t stomach a musical about a guy who hits his wife and sings about how much fun it is to have a son and how much responsibility it is to have a daughter, there’s always State Fair!

Broadway says, "Suck it, WPA!"

There are moments in history when a door for massive change blasts open.  Moments that irrevocably, often inadvertently, transform the course of the future.  Moments that signify human spirit, perseverance, and sheer ballsiness.  Once upon a time in New York City, such a moment in live theatre history occurred. Ok, I guess it's more of a footnote than a game-changing life event, but it's still one of the first and more significant occurrences of a group of artists raising a huge middle finger to the authorities that attempted to stifle them.  So that alone deserves a nod!

Show: The Cradle Will Rock

Year: 1937

Book, Music, & Lyrics: Marc Blitzstein (he wrote the English lyrics for “Mack The Knife”!)

Director: Orson Welles (yeah, that Orson Welles)

Premiere: Venice Theatre (originally Maxine Elliot Theatre)

Brief History

The Great Depression.  A rather, for lack of a better word, sucky time.  For you young whippersnappers who can't picture the Great Depression, think of the Great Recession, but about 10 million more people out of work, no internet, and the music was better.  Relief agencies were generated by Roosevelt’s New Deal. The Works Progress Administration (WPA) created the Federal Theatre Project (FTP) to create jobs for unemployed theatre workers, entertain hard up families and maintain the arts. The FTP originally was promised to be “free, adult, and uncensored.”  They basically told a bunch of artists that they could do and say whatever they wanted on stage.  Oops!  (*See Fun Fact below).  This led to a slew of political, leftist (Communism was pretty hot at the time), controversial productions. One of these was The Cradle Will Rock. 

While the musical itself wasn't necessarily monumentally groundbreaking, its premiere performance was what sent it down in history.  Cradle was a Brechtian political satire that promoted labor organization and sent a biting little "up yours" to the greedy fat cats in power.  

Broadway Sticks It To The Man

The show was originally a WPA-sponsored production, slated to beging previews on June 16 at the Maxine Elliott Theatre with elaborate sets and a full orchestra.  But four days before Cradle’s opening, the WPA shut the production down, citing budget cuts. However, it's widely believed that the musical had been censored, as its pro-union plot was deemed "too radical."  The theatre was padlocked and surrounded by armed guards (whom producer John Houseman allegedly referred to as "cossacks") to make sure no one removed sets, costumes, props, or anything else paid for by the Federal Theatre Project – including actor Howard Da Silva’s toupée. 

Actors’ Equity forbade the actors and musicians from performing (since the show wasn’t officially sanctioned by the FTP).  Still, Welles and Houseman insisted the show could go on, without sets, without lights, without an orchestra, perhaps even without the cast. They came up with a plan:
1. Find a new theatre
2. Writer Marc Blitzstein would play the whole score onstage (he was not a member of the musicians’ union) and even sing it all if necessary on a lone piano.
3. Any willing actors would sit in the audience and perform their roles from the house. Some of the actors weren't comfortable with this plan, convinced that they would lose their jobs with the Federal Theatre Project. 

The cast and crew led the crowd of ticket holders 21 blocks uptown to the Venice Theatre, attracting hundreds more on the way. The show began with Blitzstein onstage alone with a rented piano (that had also made the 21 block trip).  As he began singing the first song, a voice out in the house began to sing along. The follow spot swung out in the audience to illuminate Olive Stanton, a novice actress in her first show. Eventually, one by one, the other actors stood when their cues came and ended up playing the whole show in and among the audience, but never going onstage. Blitzstein and some of the actors doubled up on other roles, as some of the cast refused to participate or attend the opening night. 

Finale Extraordinaire!
When the show ended, the audience went wild.  I mean, they went totally nuts.  Not only had they seen the premiere of an exciting new musical by a popular writer/composer, they had witnessed a theatrical event that would reach legendary status.  They saw a group of people who refused to let the powers that be stifle their work and words, just because they didn't want to hear what the show had to say.  They saw rebellion and persistence and guts of epic proportions, rarely seen then or today. But in a time when the show's satirical plot of unions, corrupt steel magnates, and moral prostitution had pretty much come true in America, the musical's premiere was highly significant.  

Broadway had sent the ultimate middle finger to authority in the name of live theatre.  Even when their sets, costumes, orchestra, theatre, and ability to appear onstage were taken from them, even at the risk of losing their jobs just for showing up, these badass mo-fos concocted a way to still be seen and heard. If you ask me, that event - that definitive stand against the Man - is what sums up why live theatre (and art in general) is so wonderful. In a world of spite, greed, cruelty, fear, and darkness, there is still a brilliant shard of light: art. Humankind's ability and drive to create truly reflects the human spirit. The will to make something beautiful or meaningful or inspiring, despite the danger or fear of its outcome, is a stunning paragon of social and cultural bravery. Live theatre gives us the opportunity to create in the here and now, whatever condition that here-and-now may be in. 

*Fun Fact: Funding was eventually cut and the FTP ended a few years down the line, largely due to congress’s objections to the overtly left-wing political tones of the productions. Duh!

And now, a lovely nugget of a Broadway performance, Jerry Orbach singing the titular song:

The Roots of Musical Theatre - “The Black Crook” To “Showboat” ("Omigod, MULATTOS!!!")

I think the best way to begin musical theatre appreciation is by appreciating its roots.  This is where your education will begin, my young grasshoppers.  The most sturdy, fruitful, handsome tree is bupkis without the life-giving foundations of its roots.  Even as a tiny seed buried under the ground, the tree is draw from the world around it and mature into a blossoming edifice that grows and thrives by sharing itself with the world.  Such is the same for musicals and the incredibly rich history of the art form.

A looooooooooong time ago, theatre in Europe roughly consisted of traveling minstrels and players, performing either songs and slapstick comedy or religious dramas. Then around the Renaissance period, theatre evolved (highly influenced by the Italian Commedia Dell’arte, which tried to recreate the Greco-Roman Theatre Age) into sketch comedies performed by song-and-dance clowns.  Plays with heavier subject matter were often broken up by musical interludes and slapstick routines between and during acts.  This new form of theatrics inspired the advent of improv, professional actors (European nobility would commission and finance troupes), opera, music halls, burlesque (not that kind), vaudeville, the stock character, and the actress.

The presence of theatre in America first arrived shortly before the Revolutionary War.  London was the hot spot for theatre at the time.  London would have a hit show and then send it across the pond to American theatres (kinda like today’s Broadway & West End, except now the hits come from our side of the pond.  Represent!).  Then, a nifty little production titled The Black Crook premiered in 1866. The 5½ hours long piece is credited with being the first original American musical – or at least the first one to employ the concept of utilizing song and dance to help tell the story. It ran for a record-breaking (at the time) 474 performances.  Operas evolved into operettas (light, satirical operas with dialogue), spearheaded by Gilbert &Sullivan and Offenbach (he wrote the piece “Orpheus in the Underworld.” Sound familiar?)

At the start of the 20^th century, theatre manager George Edwardes decided to take a break from the smutty, absurdist, period satire that monopolized the Gaiety Theatre stage (and most of the other stages in town) and adopted a family-friendly “musical play” style with catchy songs, Cinderella story plots, and splashy spectacles. This marked the birth of the integration of book and score. The hipper, prettier, more refined style greatly appealed to theatregoers and paved the way for musicals to establish believable characters and situations.

The 20’s brought about extravaganza revues (featuring oodles of scantily clad women) and frivolous musicals with reasonably forgettable plots, but the theatre scene thrived with star power, big dance numbers, and enduring popular songs (“standards”) by big shot composers of the day (Irving Berlin, Cole Porter, the Gershwins, Jerome Kern, etc.).  Then in 1927, Kern and Hammerstein stormed the theatre world with Show Boat.

Let’s stop the history lesson here and talk a little more about Show Boat, because this is where musical theatre gets really interesting. You hear the word "groundbreaking" pretty often in the media and Show Boat was an understatement. Imagine eating nothing but candy for several decades and then getting served a huge slab of roast beef.  Because that's pretty much what Show Boat did to the theatre world.  Lot of firsts for this show: 

• First musical to integrate white and black performers (and those black performers were not in blackface!)
• First musical based on a book 
• First serious musical 
• First musical without a curtain call (see Fun Fact below!)

Based on a novel by Edna Ferber and uncharacteristically produced by Florenz Ziegfeld (more about him later), this musical about racial prejudice, destructive habits, and their consequences was the first serious musical. Until Show Boat, any piece that had combined music and dialogue was either satire, lighthearted comedy, or some other theatrical excuse to have a bunch of scantily clad females line the stage.  Total fluff.   Compared to these musicals and revues that had monopolized Broadway, Show Boat was a radical deviation from the norm.  Not only was it the first musical to tackle serious subject matter, it also raised the bar for musicals to come and officially buried the previous formula of storyline-less pastiches people were accustomed to in the 19^th century.

Fun Fact:  On opening night, Hammerstein decided not to have a curtain call (another first), as the show didn't necessarily end on a 100% happy note and he didn't want to break the theatrical vibe by letting the audience see the actors, as opposed to the characters, at the end of the show.  People weren't sure how to react, as a curtain call was customary, and they silently left the theatre.  Kern, Hammerstein, and Ziegfeld initially thought viewers didn't like it until the rave reviews and the line going out the door for tickets arrived the next day.

Our minimal history lesson for today shall end here, young grasshopper.  The moral of today's lesson is that an understanding of the birth and evolution of musical theatre is vital to appreciating it for what it is today.  When you think how uneventful the simultaneous casting of black and white performers is now, remember a time and place in which it was unthinkable; less than 100 years ago.  But some brave, creative, most likely Jewish guys took a risk and wanted to tell a real story; thus inadvertently changing the face of an art form. 

Until next time, namaste.

Broadway Musical Appreciation 101: Intro To Musical Theatre

Okay, clearly I'm bad at consistent blogging about random stuff.  I had intended to post an entry once or twice a month.  But my last post was over 6 months ago, so that obviously hasn't been working out.  I'm gonna try a new technique and narrow my subject matter down.  Way down.  I figure writing about one topic I truly care about would be a more effective incentive to keep this wilting ficus of a blog alive than randomly tossing the random fruits of my intellect to the interwebs wind.  Although I am aware that my blog is currently titled "Blog Like No One's Reading" and I shouldn't give a damn who reads (or doesn't read) it cuz I'm writing this stuff for me, it would honestly be nice to get at least few more readers.  Cuz I'm a good, funny, sharp-witted writer (well, I think I am, so you can go switch to some blog about puppies or something that redirected you from Pinterest if you don't think so!).

But I digress (I do that sometimes).  Anyway, I'm officially conducting a complete blog overhaul and dedicating it to the thing I've known and loved since I was a little fetus.  The subject I totally aced in college (101%, baby!).  The topic I possess more information than roughly 90% of the planet. And that topic is arguably the greatest thing on God's green earth: Musical Theatre!

I love Broadway. A lot.  You could say I have a borderline unhealthy obsession.  I have been listening to Original Cast Recordings and falling in love with Broadway since I was in the womb.  I saw my first Broadway show at 6 (The Secret Garden) and the theatre bug has been embedded under my skin ever since.  Nothing brings me more joy and adrenaline than seeing (or being on) a team of some of the most talented people on the planet coming together to take an empty stage and create a feast of light, sound, sight, and emotion.

So here's how this overhaul's gonna work.  Each entry is going to center on a show, a theme in a show, a song, a composer, a performer, etc. You get the idea.  You may think, "Why musical theatre? It's just like a play but with people breaking out into song. It makes no sense!"  Well, to the uneducated eye, that is what a musical theatre roughly is.  But that's what's so incredibly special about it!  It's said that in a musical, a character breaks into song when his/her emotion becomes too big for spoken words. That's why West Side Story, Carousel, and Follies have to be musicals; spoken words can't contain emotions that large.  I think that's a gorgeous sentiment.  In a movie or a play, the character can only express an emotion up until he/she literally explodes. In musicals, there's a whole other level of emotional intensity where the character is able to let the audience even further into his/her psyche by singing a song, ideally crafted for the situation the character is in.  In a straight play, you can only say, "Golly, June is here and I'm so happy." That's great, the audience gets the idea. But in a musical, the the cast is SO excited that it's June, they're beyond the point of mere happiness.  It has to be sung (and danced) to the rafters! Cuz it's bustin' out all over!

This blog is going to teach you why Oklahoma is one of the most monumental, groundbreaking musicals in history; how The Cradle Will Rock became the first show to raise its middle finger to "the man"; who Bernadette Peters, Joel Grey, Ethel Merman, Colm Wilkinson, Victoria Clark, Brian Stokes Mitchell, and Marin Mazzie are; and why Stephen Sondheim is the Eric Clapton of musical theatre composition.  I want to share my love and appreciation for musical theatre with you and anyone else who will listen (does Seth Rudetsky read other people's blogs?).  So please join me on this journey of musical discovery!

So 'til next time, enjoy this recent snippet of B-way magic!

The Airing of Grievances: Special Edition Festivus Post

Quote of the Day:
"Many Christmases ago, I went to buy a doll for my son. I reached for the last one they had, but so did another man. As I rained blows upon him, I realized there had to be another way." - Frank Costanza, Seinfeld 

I recently attended my first Festivus party.  I witnessed feats of strength (arm-wrestling), free, endless meatballs, a Festivus Miracle (drunken diva tag), and my personal favorite: The Airing of Grievances.  The host had a large sheet of paper on which guests were invited to write their grievances.  That inspired me to air all my grievances this holiday season:

People who took the Mayan apocalypse way too seriously

People who don't use their turn signals

Walmart:  

Do you have any idea how many people shop at Walmart?  Then why the hell don't you put more people at the the cash registers?!?

People who still make a big stink about racism.  I don't look down on you because of your skin color or ethnicity; I look down on you because you neglect adult responsibilities, abuse welfare, and you're an obnoxious asshole.

That person at work.... If you don't know who you are, you should, because you're a pompous ass.

That other person at work.  You should definitely know who you are because you're creepy, inappropriate, and I try to hide whenever I see you coming.

People who post multitudes of downward angled "selfies" pictures online with the same duck-lips-stick-your-ass-out-pose

Cryptic passive-aggressive Facebook status updates 

The Sound Of Music is NOT a Christmas movie!

Conformist Reindeer:

Ya know all of the other reindeer in the song "Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer?"  They ostracized and bullied and mocked and excluded poor little Rudolph.  They thought he was nothing but a freak with hyperemia of the nasal mucosa.  But one day, Santa (who never had Rudolph's back during all that bullying from his staff) beg him to save Christmas, having decided that Rudolph's mutation serves a purpose and deems him functional.  Then all those other reindeer who treated ol' Rudy like caribou feces make an immediate 180º and wanna be his friend now?  They all have this massive change of heart, but only after their boss says so.  I don't buy it.  I think these reindeer are a bunch of brown-nosing ass-kissers.  They may be shouting "Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer, you'll go down in history!" with glee, but then they'll be talking shit about him behind his back (and Rudolph's always in the front of the sleigh team).  How's that for fuckin' Christmas Spirit?

Taylor Swift:

Your hair isn't naturally (perfectly) wavy, enough with the squinty broody grin, your songs are stupid, you wear WAY too much eye makeup, and you "fall in love" 18 times a week.  Go make another perfume and leave me alone.

...and finally:

Andy Reid

Well, that'll do it for us this Festivus.  Hope you enjoyed it!  So all you readers out there (a.k.a. Mom and that one dude from Alaska who probably stumbled onto this page by mistake), feel free to air your grievances too this Festivus season. I promise it'll make you feel better! Happy Festivus to all and to all a good night!!!

Where's The Club Hades Bouncer?

Quote of the Day:

"You have the voice of an angel.  Your voice is like a combination of Fergie and Jesus!" - Dale, Step Brothers

I definitely believe that we are all karma's bitch.  The universe has a funny way of (eventually) coming back around to bite you in the sorry derrière for the bad juju you let loose into it.  However, I don't know how much belief I invest in the concept of the afterlife.  According to several organized (and unorganized) religions, our souls are bound to spend eternity in either infinite punishment or infinite paradise (especially since there's apparently no more purgatory anymore.  That narrows the field even further).  One or the other.  Just based on the blip of time we spend on this insignificant-in-the-scheme-of-things rock of ours?  That sounds a little extreme to me.  

And on top of that, just one guy (I believe the goyim refer to him as St. Peter) decides who gets to get in to Heaven?  I didn't think Heaven required a bouncer. Talk about sucky jobs!  I would hate to spend eternity checking people's He's like Santa, except instead of deciding who gets toys or coal, he decides who's naughty and nice enough for eternal paradise.  I can't even begin to describe the myriad shades of gray in that whole debacle!  I know we've spent centuries trying to determine heavenly criteria, but it just sounds like your basic aptitude test to me.  I think I liked the idea of purgatory better: the best of the best (Gandhi, Mother Theresa, Chuck Norris) can go to Heaven, the worst of the worst (Hitler, Jeffrey Dahmer, Casey Anthony) can go to Hell, and the rest of us can just hang out in purgatory.... if loved ones make it to a different floor, they can have visitation rights to the lobby.  That makes things much less complicated, in my opinion.

And how come Hell doesn't have a bouncer?  I get Heaven having one. "No way, you cheated on your taxes. You're goin' downstairs!" But shouldn't Hell have the same regulations?  "Meh, you cheated on your wife, but you were a pretty stand-up guy the rest of the time, so you can't get in."  And how come Hell's the only place with circles?  Shouldn't Heaven get circles too, going the other way?  Yin and yang, y'know?

My theory is that if you're going to designate people to extremes as big as Heaven or Hell, you've gotta have the logistics and details ironed out.

The Titty Nitty-Gritty: A Study of the Ta-tas

Snapple Fact #41: Shrimp can only swim backwards

Today, I would like to discuss one of the most baffling mysteries of human history.  It is a mystery that has never, and I fear, will never be solved.  Despite mankind’s exhausting obsession with this mystery, I am quite confident that it will never be approached with the solemnity required to break the spell it casts over so many human beings.  What is this great is enigma?  Quite simple: Boobs.

Breasts. Titties. Hooters. Funbags. Ta-tas. Jubblies. Dirty pillows. Gazongas. The girls.   Men (and women, on occasion) have found themselves inexplicably mesmerized by these orbs of power since the beginning of time.  They have created and ended careers (not to mention marriages!), motivating and destroying the lives of men throughout history.  I seriously want to know when the first bunch of Homo Erectus (pun sorta intended) dudes got together and said, “Wow, check out those mounds of skin hanging off that lady!  Let’s unceremoniously stare at them for the rest of time!”  

What is so fascinating about the female mammary glands?  Their sole biological purpose of existence is to provide milk for infants (who, if they knew they had other options, would surely desire another source of nutrients).  Almost all human females possess some amount of boobage. They are ever persent in day-to-day life.  They're fracking everywhere!  They are not rare.  They are not a non-renewable natural resource.  They don’t shoot candy or vote or make you a sandwich.  They just sit there under our shirts.  Hell, half of the internet is practically powered by titties alone! We have this infinite source of free titty-viewing, yet women remain subject to the constant, shameless, glazed-over stares, directed 12 inches below our eyes.

Now, I (kinda) get why dudes dig checking out a lady’s reproductive system area.  That's easy; men are hardwired to seek out "poon."  Like all mammals, most people don't need to go to 8th grade Sex Ed. to figure out what goes where and why (though I would highly recommend it so you know about them nasty STDs and such).  Plus, the "vag" is a sacred vessel that holds life and sexual pleasure.  It’s a beautiful flower, with lovely petals that open up and so many possibilities of physical enjoyment, yada yada yada...  But why boobs?  Boobs don’t do any of that. They make absolutely no contribution to the biological procreation process.

Were you to ask a man why he finds sweater puppies so alluring, you would normally receive a vague response like, "Because they're awesome!" As true as that is, I often wonder at the actual reasons as to why they're so awesome.  

• Obviously, men are very visual creatures.  If you tell them not to look at something, what's the first thing they do?  
• Men are also very hands-on creatures.  They like being able to always have something extra to play with.  Boobies are often quite pleasant to the touch and are conveniently located for such interaction (i.e. front and center).
• Men are drawn to the mysterious. They see an attractive setup of cleavage framed by a low-cut shirt and can only imagine what lies beneath.
• Men often suffer from a lack of shame.  They know what they want and they want it now.  So if shameless ogling results in a woman's disdain, then it's automatically her problem, according to the male logic.
• Titty Envy: They don't have them, so naturally, they want what they don't have.

In short, hooter-mania is here to stay.  It is the nature of dudes.  I suppose it's a curse for them in a way. Ta-tas are probably the biggest accidental sources of power to ever grace the earth.  They can be used for great good and/or great evil. So use them well, ladies!