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Remember that topless march a couple weeks back in Portland?  Well, it looks like Booby-Mania is spreading to other parts of the Pine Tree State:

FARMINGTON, Maine — About two dozen men and women bared their torsos in downtown Farmington Friday to make the statement that if men can go shirtless, women should be able to as well.

Traffic was slowed to a crawl and the sidewalks were packed with onlookers as the marchers passed by.

Dozens of men and women of all ages watched and took pictures of the marchers, who made no attempt to hide themselves, even in the few instances when cat-calls and lewd comments rose above the din.

In fact, not hiding themselves was the point.

“It doesn’t bother me at all,” said Frances Smith of Farmington, when asked whether she noticed men staring at her bare chest. “Women should be able to walk down the street however they choose.”

Marina Langdon, who declined to say what town she is from, said that though she has never bared herself in public before, Friday’s march “didn’t feel awkward at all.”

The event was organized by Andrea Simoneau, a University of Farmington student from Brooks, who participated in a similar topless march in Portland earlier this month.

“I was inspired and liberated by the Portland march and what it was trying to accomplish,” said Simoneau on Thursday. “This is about women’s rights and equal rights. This is America, and I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”

Well, if you say so, dear.

Of course, as was noted in the press stories about the previous march, Maine doesn’t outlaw this sort of thing.  So, in fact, this biznay has absolutely nothing to do with “rights” and everything to do with tying a can to the tail of bourgeois sensibilities.

The article also describes some conservative fretting about how to respond through local ordinances or getting the U. of Maine system to crack down on those of its students involved in the stunt, and the various legal hurdles such responses would face.  It strikes me, however, that such actions would only encourage the little darlins and that the most effective reaction to these people is, in fact, simply to ignore ’em.

UPDATE: Great Heavens! Booby-mania comes to the great Commonwealth of Virginny, too! Granted, it’s in the form of a spat over which version of the state seal should go on lapel pins handed out by the AG to his staff.

Last evening found ol’ Robbo watching the 1951 film Captain Horatio Hornblower, starring Gregory Peck in the title role and Virginia Mayo as the Duke of Wellington’s sister.

In fact, the movie wasn’t half so bad as I was expecting. I noticed that the screenplay was by C.S. Forster himself,  and it was reasonably entertaining, although if memory serves he conflated plots from more than one book in the series.  And Peck actually makes a pretty good Hornblower.  (Mayo, on the other hand, was downright preposterous.)

But it brought back to my mind a question I have long pondered:  What did the ladies see in this guy?  The Mothe avers that under his reserved, stern phiz they imagined a cauldron of boiling passions that the right woman could bring to the surface.

Perhaps, but to me he just looks wooden.

Of course, I don’t have the right genes to appreciate him the same way.  Then again, I never really understood Marilyn Monroe or Julia Roberts, either.   Sometimes I just don’t get it.

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