Pardon me, I couldn't help noticing your tits

Summer in New York City brings out the best and the worst in women's fashion. On the plus side, it does seem to be a time for females to showcase their chest cleavage, with usually desirable results. I am for this practice, being that I am 1) a male, and 2) the sensitive type that believes ladies deserve a little cooling off in that area which is hampered by excess fat and apparently some kind of hypnotic machine which makes men do their bidding. I'm a fan of the "snapshot" method of checking out females, that is, to glance quickly at a woman and then hold within the recesses of my sitcom television-choked mind an image of her, with which I can do as I please without any complaints from her or officials that take our arcane statuatory rape laws too seriously. Peripheral vision can help fill in any details to make the image more three-dimensional. This is a practice I have perfected over my lifetime, and I believe it has served me and my parole stipulations well.
I'll be honest: when a woman catches me staring at her chest and makes a scowl, I get embarassed. I'm not trying to violate ladies with my eyes. I'm just trying to file these fine honies into my mental rolodex which includes Vida Guerra and Daphne from Scooby Doo. So I take particular umbrage at ladies who walk around with Band-Aids over their nipples or tank tops with slogans and logos emblazoned across the chest, and yet still get all in a huff over a little innocent staring. It doesn't just happen to me; I see men all around New York City getting caught out there trying to read some paragraph-long admission to slutdom below a woman's neckline. Don't cross your arms and glower at me, young lady. At least not until I've finished reading the ribbed tank top snugly hugging your rack that says, "take a picture, it will last longer." And then if I do take a picture, now I'm the one in police custody for harassment charges. Yeah. That's justice all right.
Here's the thing: if you're going to walk around in a scrap of material that says "it's only cheating if you remember it," I'm just going to naturally assume you want me to look at your tits. There are plenty of regular-sized t-shirts and such with nothing written or printed on them that can be worn if you want to keep your mammaries more innocuous. This is not to say that I won't take my mental snapshot, but if you catch me gawking and you're wearing a plain ol' Russell Athletics t-shirt, well then you've got me dead-to-rights. But if your neckline is hovering a millimeter above your areola and the shirt reads "the hills of Virginia," and I find out your name is actually Virginia, well then I think that I should be able to gaze as long as I like. And I think that our elected officials would probably agree with me. The dudes will, anyway.

New Yorkers Seek Renumeration After Heat Wave

First Batch of Many Expected Lawsuits Filed Today

New York, Oy Vey--After a record-breaking three-day heat wave that permeated New York City, killing one and inconveniencing millions, the city's citizens are finally getting back to life as normal. That means without power restrictions, without excessive smog alerts, and most importantly, to begin pointing fingers and placing dollar amounts on their suffering.
Energy supplier Con Edison is already under fire by several community watchdog groups and local politicians for various short-term power blackouts that happened throughout the city during the declared heat emergency. For many citizens, however, this is not enough. "My power didn't go out," said Mr. George Applepotomous of Astoria, "but I was still sweating my balls off. Don't I deserve some kind of payout for my troubles?" Attorney Mike Coditzhot apparently agrees, "The problems here don't stop at mere power outages and spoiled groceries. They reach all the way to the Sun itself."
With this in mind, dozens of lawsuits have been filed at various courthouses throughout the city, naming Mother Nature, Father Time, and the Sun God Ra, among others, as defendants. "It's time for these demi-gods to explain themselves," said Mr. Coditzhot before a small gathering of journalists, "to allow such extreme temperatures in this day and age is nothing short of unconscionable." One of the victims named in this lawsuit, Freida Heffer of Eastchester, is hoping for a settlement. "I want justice, but I'm hoping this case doesn't go to trial." she explained from the stoop of her apartment building, while vigorously fanning herself with a bus schedule. "I mean, have you ever had to sit in one of these courthouses? They get so hot and so humid. Ugh!"
Not everyone is looking to make money from litigation. Mr. Harold Heyenmeyser of Park Slope just wants answers. "I spent over forty dollars on ice cream just to cool off during the heat wave," said Mr. Heyenmeyser in between bites of a rapidly-melting ice cream cone, "but I don't want renumeration. I want answers. I want justice. What caused this terrible heat? Was it terrorists? Was it aliens? Was it the little devils inside popping corn that makes them pop? I just want answers." Mr. Heyenmeyser hopes his civil suit will spur an investigation that will provide the answers he needs.
Until these cases go to court, however, various deities and fictional characters named in the suits are presumed innocent, and therefore allowed to go free. Mr. Coditzhot had some words of warning for any of the defendants that might be looking to skip town before trial, "You can try to run, but you can't hide. Summer always comes back. And with the way we're spewing greenhouses gases into the atmosphere, you can bet that there will be another series of lawsuits on the table for next year."