Cosplay and uncouth groping

   
   "Cosplay and uncouth groping"
   
   Usually not traveling in the curvaceous circles of lascivious ladies with symmetrical breasts, the American Intellectual Man, him changing the corporeal world by dreaming of crafting android tail has a problem.  It is:  While witnessing the act of Cosplay, he is tempted to grope.  Female humanoids adorned in vibrant hues and tightly wrapped in the carnal imagination--this produces an increases in the testicular production of semen but is not totally a wicked thingamajig, unless of course the observer insidiously morphs into a Vaseline-fingered groper.  
  Women don't know how much they're loved; specifically, that men only want to honestly gel and have sexual synergy with what they physically adore.  All men are not pigs--Playboy magazine is putting the bra and panties back on; plus, Captain Kirk mated with triple-headed women, not giving a rat's ass about dating outside of his own species.  Few of us have the monk-like control of Spock, and without the blue pill we are not fully functional if over the age of forty.  And Lord Byron knows, kinda/sorta:  "The middle ages are the worst of all the ages; moreover, man being reasonable must therefore get drunk, for what is the best of life but intoxication."  Thanks Jeb for wanting us to be even bigger slaves while the French enjoy two hour lunch breaks.  As Trump might elegantly boast:  "You have no chance."