Hard Times For Public Nipples
I have been contacted by one of our most astute social observers, Greek And Loving It who, without fanfare, simply reported: nipples have disappeared from public view.
I was initially flummoxed. Had Greek And Loving It identified a new flashpoint on the site of conflict that has always been women’s bodies? Was Greek And Loving It a pervert who’d tricked me with her previously seemingly ’sound’ correspondence? Or perhaps Greek And Loving It had issues with her own nipples and subconsciously wanted them to spill over into this vibrant site of public discourse?
The last of the public nipple warriors (credit: Stinkie Pinkie - Flickr)
Initially, I knew not BUT then I tested G & LI’s theory on the ground via my own creepy observations. Yes, the public nipple has all but disappeared except for occasional non-erotic sightings at suburban wet nurse groups. Despite summer being the high season for nipple spotting, I detected none through tee-shirts, cossies or even cost-effective imported white jersey dresses.
Greek And Loving It did offer one theory for the no public nipple trend - the return of padded bras. While I think this does indeed go some way towards an explanation, it is not the full story.
After six days and nights of very deep thought, I have concluded that the no public nipple phenomenon is ultimately the result of the scourge that is the New Puritanism. For example, millions of women are now buying special intimate adhesive tape which, when applied, suppresses nipples. And tragically, the pressure to use this tape is mounting despite horrific reports of frantically itching women ripping it off far too quickly - with disasterous results.
But, the main reason for the death of the public nipple is this: Because of the oppressive anti-erotic climate generated by the New Puritanism, women are subconsciously blocking the mysterious psychological and physical factors that Sir David Attenborough breathlessly describes as cross-species arousal triggers.
Before the New Puritanism, studies showed that the most powerful arousal triggers for Homo sapiens women were child maintenance cheques, gorging on 15 litre tubs of home brand ice cream in single sessions and seeing our drop dead gorgeous Foreign Affairs Minister, Mr Stephen Smith, speaking eloquently about sensitive regional issues on telly.
Simply put: Because science and psychology has long confirmed that female arousal starts with nipple engourgement, there will be no re-emergence of the public nipple until New Puritanism is confined to the dustbin of miserable attempts at social-sexual engineering.
Currently, the maths are NOT good:
2 nips + 0 public x 0 arousal + NP blocking M x private nips squared = 0 public nips.
So…..in the applied sense (as we say in Leeton) women freely circulating with their headlights on is an impossibility under current constraints.
Thank you Greek And Loving It for bringing the death of the public nipple to our attention.
Have your say: Are reports of the death of the public nipple, premature? Are you a New Puritan? Is Greek And Loving It A Pervert? Is Stephen Smith quite simply the best Foreign Minister we’ve ever had? What is your favourite nipple anecdote?……anything else?
Just click on the ‘comment’ thingo and follow the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the ‘website’ space - not necessary!
October 22nd, 2008 at 1:17 pm
Doris Day never displayed erect nipples in all her movies……… not in “Move Over Darling” with Chuck, not in “That Touch of Mink” with Cary, not in “Pillow talk” with Rock or with any hunky leading man. Her secret? She hadn’t met our Stephen Smith. She was in a very oddly named movie with Lauren Bacall and Kirk Douglas called “Young Man With a Horn”…..but again no protruding nubs. Beat that!
God, I must get a life. My brush with fame (note from KJ: you can all read about THAT in the comments section under the Harold Holt extravaganza) has left me bleaching my teeth, stretching my Nutrimetics “Aphrodite” coloured mouth to impossible widths, scouring op shops for golden wigs of a certain style and demanding to sing “High Hopes” at the local pub karoke. At least the daggy bra stays.
October 22nd, 2008 at 1:28 pm
You rooly have gone too far. A disgusting entry at a time when Radio National is in crisis mode. From what I hear RN has got itself into a bit of a cluster f….. situation. Your blog could only contribute to the woes the station has to suffer.
I have another report; far more serious and that is the growth in human auctions across this city. It seems the economic crash has only raised the price of human flesh or is it just another case of the poor/rich divide? Last month, at a P&C fundraiser, three men were auctioned off for $140.00 for three hours work a piece. Last week at another fundraiser, on the opposite side of town, $600.00 for a single bloke. You do the maths.
It will be interesting this summer - no nipples, a dying economy, the rise of slavery and a slightly different Radio National perhaps?
October 22nd, 2008 at 4:30 pm
G&LI - I am perplexed, if not a little hurt - YOU kick start the public/private nipple debate and then proceed to have a hissy fit when I take your observations seriously. THEN, you quickly follow up with an outrageous claim that family men are being auctioned off to fund play dough. You must decide who and what you are: Whistleblower, New Puritan or media commentator.
October 23rd, 2008 at 9:22 am
An observation that could only be made by a pervert.
October 24th, 2008 at 8:10 am
Typical journo-print things out of context!!!!!!!! Boo!!!!! Censorship & self protection are alive and well at the ABC, the home of the righteous!!!!
October 24th, 2008 at 6:59 pm
Esteemed KJ
Your words speed to me across the foamy depths of the sphere of blog and stir me deeply in the tunic.
As you know, I study long time sagas and life-world of the Vikings.
True it was that when Vikings set sail across the seas for summer pillaging their wives vie fiercely for the honour to have their nipples carved upon the figurehead which their captain place upon prow of his long ship.
As etymologist and scholar I feel sure sturdy folk of Leeton spring from loins of self-same wayfarers on the whale road, Norsemen of whom the bard sing to jangling of harp in the mead-hall.
Why else we say in Norse language “show me the twin beacons upon your prow and I will raise the sail?”
October 25th, 2008 at 8:10 am
Oh, Oh ragnar hairy-breek, you do not write, you sing. You do not seek to admonish, you seek to explain. You are among those most rarest of men - lover and peacemaker.
And yes, ragnar hairy-breek Leetonites share many things with you. We too have 24 hours of sunlight during Summer, we too launch locally crafted Long Tinnies (festooned with streamers) into the waters of the Murrumbigee at times of community celebrations. And, all along our main street, Pine Avenue, during our hot Summers of perpetual diurnal conditions, you will observe proud, strong, young men hanging out car windows invoking poetry passed down from their ancestors: Show Us Ya Tits!
October 26th, 2008 at 1:01 pm
Hey KJ,
I was talkin’ to Brad ’bout wardrobe ensemble put together by myself. Not only was I nipple challenged but the Map of Tassie presented serious probs. Thank God for a mate loaded with problem-solving. Extra benefit, Brad is swift. Solution: Get a roll of electrical wiring tape, cut to the length of Tassie and apply. Well done Brad, but you didn’t think of things in the long term - how to get it OFF. Now, the electrical wiring tape is a permanent fixture unless my lower regions fuse out. I am now a New Puritan by default!
Yep, there is no doubt that Greek and Loving It IS a pervert. How the hell did the pervert come up with this theory? Answer: By ogling, that’s how. That makes me very wary of you G and LI. Stop this aberrant behaviour before you find yourself barred from ALL social activity. You are a sicko. Get some help so that you do not take up very limited space…..at the Governor’s Pleasure.
October 26th, 2008 at 5:43 pm
Prepositions are important. After leaving Trinity College, Dublin to work as an IRA mole at Bletchley Park on the cracking of the German Code I applied to work in the Prepositions Section. My thesis at TC on “The Relationship of Unter und Uber to Cannabis Ingestion” I believed gave me eminent qualifications to make a small contribution to the cracking of the secrets of ENIGMA and ULTRA.
Alas some bureaucrat Brit (I think his name was Nigel) mistakenly put me in the Propositions Section.
You can read about the unit’s sterling work in ‘From Bletchley, With Love’ by Mavis Batey.
The idea was to examine transcripts from the Third Reich for any signs of sexual obsession. Did you know for example that Rommel always had to have his childhood potty under his bed?. It was there at El Alamein. Take my word for it.
And, yes, it is true that Herr Hitler had only Eine Kugel (one ball).
How much weltschmerz derived from that deficiency!
The strategy of the Propositions Section was to train German speakers in sexual proclivities and parachute them into Deutschland where they would hunt down their quarry.
Despite my protests that my expertise lay in German prepositions, in particular unter und ober, and not in sexual propositions, Ian Fleming (yes, The Ian Fleming of 007 fame) appointed me in charge of the training camp for the sexual agents.
Contrary to my misgivings, things worked out surprisingly well.
Golden shower girls were dropping down on Berlin, fellatists on Dresden,
and dirty talkers were infesting Radio Berlin.
That was until Eva Farzenheim enrolled in the course.
She looked like Rene Rivkin in curlers.
Unfortunately, not only did Eva look hippo-like, but she emitted offensive odours and she lacked any self-confidence, which in her case was entirely justifiable.
The Ginger Man has many faults, but lack of persistence is not one of them.
I looked at her giant eyes, bloodshot from weeping, and thought, “There has be a Nazi over there waiting for Eva!”
Perhaps a Mother Figure?
No, children would run screaming to their Vater from such a Mutter.
Nein, nein, nein!
A sex-starved general back from the Russian Front?
No a dead and rotting donkey on the rubble-strewn road from Smolensk would have for him more appeal than Eva.
There had to be a way.
I find that some of my most brilliant notions come to me when I am on the crapper. The Chinese are correct in their concept that the centre of the human being is in the bowels, not in the heart.
So it was that one day I burst from the men’s room and ran into the training room, past the teleprinters clattering away and the typists drinking Algerian Imitation Earl Grey in search of Eva.
The roll of toilet paper had become tangled with my underpants, and its skein of paper trail added a festive touch to the grim and chilly war room ambience.
At last there she was! Eva, sitting and sombrely picking at her toenails with a spike she had removed from the For Your Eyes Only file.
“Eva,” I cried. “You are wunderbar.”
“You hold the key to Doktor Goebbels inner sanctum.”
Eva gazed at me in disbelief.
“Ja,” I said, “Ja,ja,ja, JA!”
“Große Nippel ! Große Nippel !Große Nippel! Große Nippel!”
The poor girl did not understand.
“Nippel…Nippel…Nippel…Große Nippel”
YOU HAVE GREAT NIPPLES !
And so it was that we parachuted Eva of the Great Nipples into war darkened Europe. Eva went from unter to ober!
We never disovered how effective was her mission.
But there is a part of a foreign field that is forever Nipple.
Bletchley Park is a distant memory now, but I still keep my hand in decoding all kinds of material.
For example I find that an anagram of Kerrie Jean Ross combined with the above text produces this message:
T-H-E-R-E-L-I-G-I-O-N-R-E-P-O-R-T
To return to my thesis. Prepositions are important.
Some would have us believe that Radio National is dumbing DOWN.
Why not dumbing UP?
–THE GINGER MAN
October 26th, 2008 at 6:17 pm
Hello G-I-N-G-E-R-M-A-N,
I was well aware that Adolph H nearly destroyed the world while operating on ONE ball so we can only shudder at what would have been the course of history if he’d been ‘complete’. The rest of your magificent contribution is new to me - fantastic stuff as I’ve have often argued that women continue to be written out of the war effort. I will not back away from your last comment: Some of us believe that Radio National is dumbing down. Well, let me tell assure you Ginger Man I’ll be on the phone first thing tomorrow to the Chief Historian at the War Memorial (on behalf of RN listeners) with this query: Field Of Nipple….. these words mean anything to you sir?
Meanwhile…..I’ve heard that when Bletchly Park finally closed its doors, the last missive pulled from the teleprinter was poignant in its simplicity:
C-R-I-T-T-E-N-D-O-N-M-I-S-S-I-N-G
October 27th, 2008 at 12:01 am
The reason they’ve disappeared is because of global warming. It just ain’t cold enough anymore.
October 27th, 2008 at 4:01 pm
Call me what you like, you’ll find that I’m ahead of the game.
I have gone and done some research and here it is. The nipple-suppressing T-shirt bra emerged during the 1990’s Asian economic crash. It was an instant success. It took off across the United States and then turned west to Australia. Those Australians with Asian connections were the first to wear the item. The rest is history. I’m telling you that even today you will not find a bra in Sydney that’s not masquerading as a pair of out of date ear muffs. I said to Simone: you’ll never find a lacy bra sans nip this side of town, and she goes: not the other side either.
Hope you’ll have something to say about this Ginger Man.
October 27th, 2008 at 5:58 pm
I read with interest on Crikey and various sites around the world that blogging is no longer fashionable. Perhaps RN should take heed.
October 28th, 2008 at 1:47 pm
erroll may be right, but then again They have said over the years that quite a few others things have passed their use-by date - I’m thinking History, Cinema, Novels, Harold Holt, the Short Skirt, even the name ‘Erroll’. And just when you think They might be right, you switch on the Telly, and there’s a rear shot of Harold Holt running into the surf, as if it was yesterday.
October 28th, 2008 at 7:00 pm
Greek and loving it……..
At K Mart, Marrickville the Wonder Bra comes with a Free Moustache Cup.
Ask for Toula.
By the way it is NOT Gingerman, it is The Ginger Man.
October 29th, 2008 at 3:17 pm
Sorry about that comment Greek and loving it……
It was racist.
It also did not mention Aussie Bras with Beer Bottle Top Nipple Implants, or Alaskan bras with Elk Shootin’ Nozzles.
Greek and Loving It, you are obviously an Aphrodite.
Please accept a deep apology from
The Ginger Man.
October 29th, 2008 at 4:35 pm
and STILL no-one’s mentioned the bum bra.
October 29th, 2008 at 6:07 pm
hi tackle,
Good point. The bum bra never really took off. In the 70’s, I did go to a couple of party plan bum bra thingos. After the bum bra consultant demonstrated the product, you were invited to try on sample bum bras in all sorts of colours and sizes. It was really very, very off putting to see your neighbour or work colleague running around with a tumbler of cheap white and a mouthful of jatz - in a bum bra. This was pyramid selling at its most cynical - and it didn’t take long for the bum bra pyramid to crash. Those supposedly macrame pot plant holders you see hanging on verandahs, are in fact vintage bum bras.
October 29th, 2008 at 9:37 pm
Only once have I exposed my chest to the elements.
It was on holiday in Corsica.
People were processioning by with flowers, altar boys, holy statues, mandolins and accordions under a blazing sun and in a world’s first, I removed my shirt.
The Ginger Man has a total of six hairs on his chest, a small but significant sign of testosterone and nipples small enough to feed any fledgling sparrow evicted from its nest by a greedy cuckoo.
Thoughts of a Trinity College chaplain preaching on the text, ‘My brother Esau is an hairy man, but I am a smooth man spring to mind.’
I was surrounded by Esau’s descendants. Hairy men, hairy women, bulky Neanderthals.
Such creatures, their genes springing from some ice cave in northern Europe, would have found a Dublin pool party delightful.
Between me and the waterfront stood one of these ape-men, his back a hirsute horror.
Put him in the backwoods of America and they’d shoot him in mistake for a brown bear.
His daughter (I think her name was Canola) was aphroditic apart from the moustache.
Canola, with her teenage effervescence, seemed to find my chest fascinating. I have no idea why. Perhaps in such an environment I had the sexual lure of The Naked Ape.
Canola flashed me her best smile over her mo and stroked my lily white chest.
I glanced down. One, two, three, four, five.
Five hairs, not six!
Canola ran to her hairy parent with her trophy between her long fingernails.
She said something in Corsican like: Father, is this man or woman?
Such humiliations have made me very sensitive about public exposure.
Speaking of exposure reminds me of the flasher in Manhattan who accosted a Jewish woman. When he threw open his coat she pointed and said,’ Do you call that a lining?’
It also makes me wonder if I am the only chest hair challenged man who shuns beach exposure.
For example, we have seen Bob Hawke and his codpiece, in fact a hirsute galaxy of prime ministers sporting their hairy selves before the waves.
But we have, to the best of my knowledge, NEVER seen a photograph of the Top Half of Kevin Rudd.
As the Yanks would say, How so? In an age of cell phones with cameras, has nobody ever snapped Kevin Rudd, half-naked and unashamed.
Well, Kevin, I’ve got six to your five chest hairs.
If you remember it was the Man Boobs exposure that began the Decline and Fall of Mark Lathan, the Man who was Almost Prime Minister.
John Howard on his power walks, however, kept it all buttoned up though sometimes a few hairs could be detected above his Nikes.
All of this leaves the question: Has anyone seen a picture of the Unveiled Top Half of Kevin Rudd?
If you have one of the Adonis of the Lodge, please post it here.
October 31st, 2008 at 7:56 am
Judging by the ‘quality’ of the responses on this thread I think my claim that blogging is dead is correct. I only do it because I have nothing better to do. Although I see the Man in Grey clearly thinks Harold Holt is still alive.
October 31st, 2008 at 10:52 am
Erroll - Why don’t you look on the bright side? You could be subconsciously craving acceptance. Aren’t you lucky that you have chanced upon a caring, supportive cyber community? KJ
October 31st, 2008 at 3:05 pm
the bum bra did die but has it been, er, resurrected? - see below from smh recently. is that all things come around - oh, no, it’s that all things become round -hence ‘mound’ selling rather than pyramids - i wish i still had pyramids. new look - the flesh tone. mmm
‘Known as the Double-O Thong, its stated purpose is to lift the bum while flattening the tummy. Sounds good. Except look at it. What woman would be caught dead in this flesh-toned fetish gear?’
November 1st, 2008 at 9:45 am
Thanks for the update hi tackle - I predict the Double-O Thong will be used among those with zany bedroom tastes bit it WILL never take off among generalist bra shoppers. Why? Because I tried lifting my bum with my two hands, all the while breathing deeply to keep my tummy in. It is a physical IMPOSSIBILITY.
Try it - you’ll see……
November 1st, 2008 at 4:26 pm
I’m afraid Erroll is right. A blog financed by the public purse and hosted by Australia’s best and brightest media outlet should be more than just a place for bored disgruntled perverts who crave attention. I think we could all do better and that’s why I’d like to see a few guidelines that could prevent further embarrassment for Radio National. A couple of dot points to get us going (not to be confused with rules which I abhor):
* People like Erroll who don’t like the content should be encouraged to keep coming back till they find something better to do.
* No-one should feel that they have to say anything that makes a point or contributes to the global store of knowledge, unless it involves animals.
* Because online is essentially a multi-modal platform contributors should be encouraged to do more than write text. For example, instead of posting this as text I could have filmed myself vomiting and then posted it as a vlog (although I might have had to get a student to help me post it). And that’s OK.
KJ some discipline please…..
November 2nd, 2008 at 9:36 am
Hello The Lonely Scholar - it’s always good to hear news from your small world. You may be interested to know that I once worked in the Academy but quickly realised that it was no place for a Libertine from Leeton. Academic freedom? I think not. I suspect when the Wall came down, thousands of out-of-work Stasi operatives were granted asylum at Australian institutes of higher learning. It was dire. One day I even dared utter that the weather was HOT. I was warned, in no uncertain terms, that I was trying to draw attention to my body. I decided then and there to take my HOT self elsewhere.
So, The Lonely Scholar, I’m not surprised that you want rules. HOWEVER, I must disappoint. There are NO rules in here EXCEPT no one is allowed to ask me out!
KJ
November 5th, 2008 at 8:01 pm
I’m sorry but I was only born in 1967….what is a bum bra? Must say am glad nipples have disappeared from public view - obviously only a man (Greek And Loving It) would have noticed that though. However, those of us who are over-endowed do not have the luxury of padded t-shirt bras, so we still have the odd embarrassing moment. But, what is a bum bra? Am I too young or just naive? I’ve only heard of g-strings, or granny undies - grundies as my husband calls them (which hold your bum and belly in very tight).
KJ: Hello Maggie - welcome to your new community…..just the right sort of girl - inquisitive and WITH husband. We need you in here.
Assignment: Go into Myers, head straight for Intimate Apparel. Walk straight up to the lady with the name tag and the best fitting bra on the floor and say: I’VE COME FOR A BUM BRA……
Let us all know how you go.
November 7th, 2008 at 8:45 pm
nipples are now in mandatory detention on a small island off these glorious shores. california, i heard.