Back in my day, tits ran wild and free. We didn't expect much out of them, just that they be big, jiggly, and have at least two nipples.

Then, in the late nineties, came the Second Great Porn Boom. It revolutionized boobies much in the same way microprocessors revolutionized computers or Richard Fosbury revolutionized the Dick Flop. Semenly overnight, we demanded our bazingas be bigger, faster, and more technologically sophisticated. We wanted space aged materials and extended warrantitties. They needed the ability to bear greater loads in case of sudden earthquakes or bukkake. In short, they needed to be more.

But boobies lost something during this period, even as they were "improving." They no longer had character or nuance. There was a certain soulless-ness to them. Almost as if they were created by someone who had never held one in their hand and whose only knowledge of them was related through a third party. And that third party happened to be a gay man who lost his hands in the war.

Recently, however, there has been a resurgence in old school boobies. The hipsters would like to take credit for it, naturally, much like they do with the soaring popularity of vinyl records and gluing pubic hair to one's face. But the truth is, it's simply a natural ebb in the eternal zeitgeist. Kind of like how kids are now wearing mom jeans. Next year, it will be striped stockings. The year after, cargo shorts. The tide goes in, the tide goes out. You just can't explain it.