Sir Mix-a-Lot's saddest days.

Evolutionary biologists propose that as our hominoid ancestors came out of the trees to live on the ground, they adapted a number of traits to make their lives easier.  One necessity was the development of extra padding on the hands and feet; no sense in wandering on hardened soil without some cushioning.  A second pad arose thanks to our gluteus maximus muscles - we developed a butt.  In the monkeys and apes, the butt became a status and reproductive symbol, often turning bright colors and becoming more prominent.  In humans, we're not sure what happened over time.  Some people retain a more "ancestral," if you will, butt that we deem apple-bottomed, ghetto booty, etc.  However, more and more of us are becoming assless "backs with cracks," and it's kind of sad.  Oh toush, where have ye gone?

To my eye, the behind is still an attractive sight.  A tightened, smooth, athletic rear end makes my heart go pitter-patter.  And for those who have had the joy of grabbing a handful of quality cheek, it's wonderful.  The frequency these occurrences is diminishing rapidly, and nowhere as obvious as in the town I now live, and especially on campus.  We actually have reached the condition of anti-ass.

Now there are people who have an ass, people who have less ass, and people I would consider having negative ass.  I define negative ass as those people whose butt not only doesn't stick out, but actually curves inward.  A sad state indeed.  Two semesters ago, though, I actually encountered anti-ass.  Now, please understand that this ass presented itself not because I'm some perv who stares at student backsides, but because this ass was so absent as to draw attention to itself.

The owner of the anti-ass was a short weedy freshman.  Not only did his butt cave in, but his wallet sagged to the point of forming a pouch sitting atop sagging slacks.  It was amazing - this area of ass dark matter with no form or function, no substance, no nothing.  My friends and I deemed it anti-ass, for we were sure that if his backside ever happened to brush against someone with a butt, the universe would be torn apart in a brilliant flash of asstopian energy release killing us all immediately.  Yes, it's that bad.

Obviously, we no longer live on the ground per se.  How many of us go to work, sit on the hardened savannah, and walk on all fours to lunch.  Our need for an ass has essentially vanished, so it's not surprising that it diminishes accordingly.

So, to Anthony Ray, who brilliantly wrote:

"So your girlfriend rolls a Honda
Playin' workout tapes by Fonda
But Fonda ain't got a motor in the back of her Honda
My anaconda don't want none unless you've got buns hon"

it seems that Baby got Nothing.