If you ask me, porn is responsible for the pube-less prepubescent look so prevalent in the prurient fashion pretenses of today’s prototype of the usually protean nubile prima donna. The tangles and twists of short and curly pubic hair previously so popular in the public’s eye have predictably been plucked in favor of exposing pretty, puffed, waxed, and pampered pudenda for no better purpose than to be able to purvey what is happening… down there… when the penis is penetrating the pink folds of the labia. Today, Lady Godiva rides out of gates in a palace of perversions for panting Peeping Toms to peruse her particulars and note whether her pussy is particularly shaved, in a shape perhaps, like a point of an arrow, or trimmed to pretend the patch of hair is soft as the fuzz of a peach. Previously, that place where the sex was protected by the thicket of soft thistle providing cover to that most private of places was revered by prurient interests with a propensity of lustful propriety; all hailed the hairiest bush properly. Today, the prim and the prude prance about extolling how propriety requires proper cropping for one to be promoted to perfections of sexual propensity. I say, fuck that, the hairiest bush is just as warm a place to point my proud erections!