BILLINGSGATE POST: Does anyone remember when crotch-grabbing was a lost art, especially for pinch-mouth prudes with legs that didn’t meet at a common point? Incidentally, in geometric terms, this type of layout is called an “infinitesimal parallelogram.” In other words - if you don’t have a crotch, what’s to grab?
Historically, Leonardo da Vinci was the first to paint a picture depicting crotch-grabbing. The reason you don’t see this in his painting of the Mona Lisa is that her hands are temporarily resting on the arm of her chair; possibly explaining her mysterious smile.
In more recent times (1847) Henry David Thoreau wrote about this phenomenon while living alone in the woods on the shore of Walden Pond:
…”and if I had nothing to do - for the devil finds employment for the idle - I might try my hand at some pastime as that.”
So why does the NFL tend to gravitate towards such crude entertainment for its fans? Last year, Super Bowl LVI, Dr. Dre out-grabbed Snoop Dogg 54-38 in what was called the greatest crotch-grab since Super Bowl XXVII, when Michael Jackson performed during the 1993 Halftime show.
This year, it was Rihanna who met the challenge. Dressed in diabolical red, her boobs encased in plastic, a bump in her belly; she let it all hang out. While balanced on an elevated stage, she swiped at her crotch as she sang a medley of her hits. She was at her lip-syncing best, unglued and dispassionate, as her white-robed zombies twerked and twitched to her lyrics; leaving one to wonder WTF was this all about.
Dr. Slim: “Kept waiting for Biden to shoot her down like one of those ChiCom balloons.”
Dirty: “Yo, Dr. Dude. She was a menace to low flying aircraft.”
