Okay. I understand why the Miss America pageant wants to end the swimsuit parade. But…have you considered what bad things lie ahead?

I know, I know. It was a babe strut. No pretending here. Nobody cared that Miss Arizona could fiddle. And Miss Kansas tap-danced. And Miss Hawaii picked lice from the homeless to help make the world a better place. Nobody gave tuppence for their views on global warming or mis-treatment of lab rats. C’monn. Get real.

What counted was how they looked in swimsuits. The priorities were swimsuit, legs, swimsuit, backside, hair, swimsuit, smile, gracefulness, swimsuit, bosom and did I mention…?

I understand why a woman would resent this flesh parade. Her mate did not fool her when he declared “She gets my vote because of that poem she recited.” Right. That and her tush.

I get it. Why evaluate a woman by her bod? (The poetry and lice being pretenses.) Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. What is ugly to you is delightful to me. How about some respect for us chubby gals? And all that.

The pageant used to declare that certain physical attributes were “ideal”. Attributes such as… well, you know what I mean. Those ideals were what millions of men desired. Stumpy, large-tush, pigeon-toed women need not apply. (My apologies to pigeon lovers.)

Men like these controlled much of popular culture. With their spending power, they did. Along with other types of power. They said “This is what we like in a babe. So let’s get on with the swimsuit parade.”

Popular songs reflected their ideals. Remember “There Is Nuthin’ Like A Dame.”? Or “Standin’ On The Corner, Watchin’ All The Girls Go By.”? Or a million more.

Fellas, the power of the purse has been passed to a new generation. Women have huge clout in the market place today. Svelte or upholstered, buxom or flat as slate, millions of them abhor the flesh peddling of the swimsuit parade. And so the parade will end. As will most of the viewership. The women in charge of the pageant don’t seem to worry about that.

Ahhh, but I worry. On behalf of dog lovers, I worry. Toss in cat and horse lovers. You will be aware that they too have their beauty competitions.

You have seen the clips of the big dog shows. You have seen those funny-looking owners trotting, mincing and bounding before the judges. Leashed to their precious Pomeranians, Poodles, Pointers, Pinschers and Pugs. This is the equivalent of the tush parade in the Miss America pageant.

And how are these dogs judged? By their walk, their hair, their face. No saggy Sheepdog, droopy Dachshund, nor bulgy Basset need apply. Have you ever seen a pigeon-toed Mastiff? You won’t ever, not at a fancy dog show.

Wet nose? Crossed eyes? Dribble? Mismatched ears? Don’t even think of competing, pooch. You don’t fit the ideals established by the kennel association judges. They determine what is beautiful, and you ain’t. Well, what do you expect, given your parents? I mean, your great-granny and her one-night stand with that coon dog?

Do I hear a critic berating me? For comparing women in or out of swimsuits with Spaniels, Springers and Schnauzers? It does not bother me. For I am up to date on the subject of animals conversing with each other. Only last week I saw an article about this. Scientists tell us all sorts of animals chit-chat with each other.

I can just hear the dogs down at the park where the dog walkers gather. “That kennel club show on the telly? It’s disgusting, that’s what it is. If your ear droops or you sniff the wrong end of the dog next to you, why you don’t stand a chance of a blue ribbon.”

“Oh, you’ve got that right. It’s all fake. They judge them only on their looks, their so-called beauty. How about pouncing on a squirrel? Or chasin’ off the mail man. Or rolling in a mud puddle. Or howling? Howling’s important. Do they ever judge you on those qualities? Not on your life.”

Women who don’t like swimsuit competitions have rung the death nell on them. Will owners of ugly dogs, hissing cats and swaybacked horses bring down the curtain on animal beauty pageants?

I know. I know. The old concepts of beauty are going to the dogs. You had to see that coming.

From Tom…as in Morgan.

Find Tom on Facebook. You can write to Tom at tomasinmorgan@yahoo.com.