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"Heads or Tails?"

by Everett R. Harvey



Vol. 3, No. 4, 1959

     An outspoken plea for recognition of la derriere

     Whether you're a T-man or an R(ump)-man; a babbling nubbin-nibbler, or a panting panty-petty...it makes a lot of difference. The choice is yours, but the selection you make determines whether you'll travel the road as an average, happy-go-lucky Joe, or ride the highways in a long, sleek black sedan as a figure of power and influence!
       If you're bedazzled by the bobbing baubles, and make your selection on those merits alone, you're missing the best bet. It's not what's up front that counts!
     Old bosoms droop and fade away; but the derriere is here to stay!
     Let's face it, what have the T-men got after ten years? Golf! Bridge! Poker games! Baseball! And a very mediocre and mundane existence that doesn't take them beyond the job they started in.
     But what have the R-men got after the same period of time? Their choice, based upon thoughtful and careful consideration, has netted them a unit that is serviceable for not only ten years, but as long as thirty to forty years-- an actual female Roll Royce! For la derriere is not just a large, protruding, well-cleaved "hamis alabamus" that shimmies and shakes like jelly when a gal strolls down the boulevard. It's rare and special. It is a delicately balanced arrangement of mass, motion, rhythm, and grace, all wrapped up in the damnedest, most disturbing force ever put onto the face of the moldy earth! It has the fascination of a deadly snake, and it's just as deadly, for once you're in its clutches (or vice versa) you'll move safes and hell to keep it. This makes for the ambitious man, a man who gets ahead in spite of himself!
     History proves it!
     It wasn't a gal with a buxom bosom who drove Samson to the barber shop, and it wasn't a gal with falsies who pooped Napoleon the night before Waterloo! Nor was it a gal with an uplift who gave Adam a sudden appetite for apples!
     These gals were equipped with the rare, very special rump, la derriere!
     Stand on any busy street corner, and while you're twirling your key chain, nine hundred and ninety-nine girls will go by before you'll see one with la derriere! And it is indeed rare when you find one on the street. Only when the Lincoln Continental breaks down while there's a taxi strike on.
     Your best chance for finding one of these creatures of a thousand delights is in the inner reception offices of a business mogul, tycoon, banker, industrialist and labor leader, for they like to be near wealth, power and influence--after all, they helped to create it!
     You'll find them in Hollywood as actresses, and they don't even have to know how to act. All they have to do is walk away from the camera once during the screen test, and any motion picture studio will spend five million bucks to set up a story (or excuse) around her.
     You'll find them in duplex apartments, Tiffany's, Cartier's, and the better department stores, sometimes on escalators if you're reasonably lucky. It's the nicest thing to ride on an escalator behind of!
     Look in the better fur shops, for even the little rodents don't mind shedding their precious skin for the frail with the tail!
     Occasionally, but only occasionally, you'll find a gal who has la derriere, but doesn't know it! She hasn't been discovered by a real bladesman. But once she's tested his steel, and discovered her power, you'll never see her again except in the upper inner sanctums of those who cherish and nurture the finest!
     Let an unsuspecting gal (equipped with la derriere) enter her first place of employment and stroll-l-l over to the water cooler, bend over and take a sip. Males in that office who have never touched a drop of water voluntarily in their lives will literally drown themselves in unprecedented, Bacchanal revelry!
     Let one show up at a barbecue, and the hamburgers will be burned to little more than carbon fragments, good only for throwing ar your wife (particularly if you are a T-man)!
     Let one, married, single, widowed, or divorced, move into town, and you will see this wonderful creature shunned by other women (out of sheer terror). For as long as there is a living male in town, the betailed beauty will never have to change a tire, carry a heavy package, paint her house, or move her furniture! All she has to do is suggest, casually, that this is her wish, and the lads who hide from their wives when there's work to be done around the house, will be over at hers!
     Nor will you ever find one at a ladies bridge game, church social, or at a bargain counter, or employed in an office the boss's wife visits!
     You've never seen a bosom cause such an uproar, and you never will, because if a gal with a bosom hasn't got la derriere, she just hasn't got it!
     She's a bust!

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