COLLEGETOWN — Just as art does not need to serve a didactic purpose, existing as it does, a pursuit unto itself and subversive insofar as it refuses moral justification—so too is my Halloween costume. Inspired by the slogan l’art pour l’art, “art for art’s sake,” I have braved three Cornell Halloweekends under the banner of my simple aesthetic philosophy: “Tits out, bitches.”
On this glorious All Hallows Eve, I encourage you to fight the urge to ask your most bustily endowed friends the unfortunate question, “What are you even supposed to be?” God did not put me on this Earth to justify myself. He put me on this Earth to eat pussy, make money, and have my boobs out on Halloween.
I am still weary from having to explain last year’s Halloween costume. My peers kept asking me whether being a “sexy Willard Straight COVID tester” and chugging jungle juice at the Pike annex was “missing the point.” As far as I’m concerned, the point is to wear as little—ahem—PPE as possible, and to have my 36DDs out. I wasn’t going to wear a puritanical Hazmat suit for the sake of “accuracy” or “public health.”
And while we’re at it, no, I wasn’t just a “playboy bunny” for Halloween freshman year. I was obviously feminist icon Gloria Steinem as an undercover Playboy Bunny gathering intel for her seminal journalistic exposé of female exploitation and objectification in the Playboy club. And yes, my tits were totally out. What about it?
Let us shift campus discourse from inane and oft repeated statements such as “this costume makes absolutely no sense and I don’t even understand it enough to be able to tell whether it is offensive, which is stressing me out” and towards a freer, more elevated appreciation for the high art that is my fat rack.
If you need me, I will be engaged in selecting this year’s bosom baring outfit. Given that Halloween fortunately coincides with parents’ weekend, it is my moral imperative to make sure that my boobs are on full display for the MILFs and DILFs of Cornell. I’m thinking of something self-referential and meta. Perhaps a “sexy pile of dirty snow” getting absolutely ran through at the intersection of College Ave and Dryden? Or something skimpy to the point of nonexistence, “sexy Cornell financial aid disbursement”? Or maybe I’ll resort to a tried and true classic; “sexy college girl drinking to escape the crippling ennui that haunts her every waking moment.” Either way, rest assured, my boobs will be out.
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