With age advancing, having an unzipped fly is pretty ho-hum: What did you expect to see, after all, and how embarrassing could it be? A pecker-peek or two never hurt anyone. With female genitalia on frequent view on television these days, I'm inclined to start a lottery as to when full-frontal males will make their television debut.
I'm not sure why it did, but a passed-along article about the potential sale of "Rolling Stone" set this train of thought off in my head. I never was a reader, but I was aware of the clout the tabloid wielded in its heyday. Liberal, counter-culture, with insistent doses of the likes of Bob Dylan, John Lennon, Barack Obama and other heavy-hitters from politics and entertainment. Those days seemed to be filled with people of stature and imagination. These days, the stars seem to be pip squeaks by comparison ... but of course that is just my aging mind: Actors and actresses are like latter-day cars: They all look the same to me. The naked-er they get, the more hidden they become.
Your fly's open? Once that sent shivers down the spine. Now ... who gives a damn about your pecker and why should they? There are no more secrets and what secrets there are are so banal and are crafted by such mediocre magicians that ...
Well, you tell me: Is there a reason to zip up? Or even un-zip for that matter?
Is there a raison d'être for "Rolling Stone?"