YOU CRACK ME UP!

Well it has come to this, Dear Reader.  I have written about forehead bugs, toilet spews, flossing, laundry duties, double dipping and a host of topics regarding Bad Manners.  This day has been a long time coming.  Today I must vent to you about that social taboo, Plumber's Butt.  I hesitated there with the apostrophe, I am tempted to put it after the S because it is a malady that affects more than one plumber.  Plumbers are actually given a bad rap here, as this is a problem that spans all occupations, regardless of color, age, religion, gender or political beliefs.

Summer is a particularly bad season for exposing the intergluteal cleft because clothes typically become thinner and shorter on top, while looser on the bottom.  This creates a highly dangerous convergence zone in which, at any given moment, the Subject may bend or reach, thus advertising what one former co-worker referred to as the "pencil holder".

We can thank British designer Alexander McQueen for designing the "bumster" jeans, those low-slung denims that barely cover one's derriere, but we can't lay all the blame on him.  I maintain that the Subject must have an inkling that his (purely a neutral possessive) buttock cleavage is being bared.

He (in the most gender-neutral sense) has got to know that he is flaunting his fanny!  Surely he can feel that coolness on his crack, breeze on his butt, chinook on his cheeks, gust on his glutes, tempest on his tush, air on his ass, puff on his pompi.  I have considered this for quite a while, and I have come to the realization that he Doesn't Care.

He doesn't care about his indecent exposure, but he also doesn't care about the feelings of the unexpecting viewer.  He has no remorse for the horror and embarrassment that he has inflicted upon the innocent onlooker.

The accidental audience really is just that.  It could be you, Innocent Reader, minding your own business, when the Subject leans down to pick up something he dropped, crouches to peer in a low space, bends to assart a plot of land, or whimsically reaches for his toes.  Polite Reader that you are, do you quickly avert your assaulted eyes?  Do you turn your head and pretend to look at something else?  Do you say anything?  Do you let him hear your gasp?  Do you cover your child's eyes?  Do you calmly assay the offending situation?

He Doesn't Care because in the last decade, Alexander McQueen's bumsters and all of their copycat brands have become asininely popular and it has become fashionable in some circles to display one's lower crevasse.  There is no shame in showing one's seat.  It has become so commonplace that late night TV has created a commercial for Coin Slot Cream.  Popular culture has assented to this practice and acts as if there is nothing wrong with assailing one's assets.

I assert that we put a stop to this practice.  I hereby asseverate to assiduously monitor those with whom I associate.  My indignation will only be assuaged by an assumpsit from the Subject to assume all responsibility and rectify the problem, assuring that it will happen No More.  Only then will I have assythment.