JEFF PEARLMAN

JEFF PEARLMAN

Boogers

Two minutes ago I picked my nose.

Nobody was here, and I didn’t have a tissue within reach. So I whipped out my left index finger, engaged with a quick shuffle and emerged. There was no booger to be had, but the pick was executed. And I am no less of a man for it.

I’m not certain when nose picking became taboo, but it is. Without question. But why? Factually, boogers exist. They’re not hazardous or deadly. They’re just sticky and green/yellow/(somtimes) red and sorta odd. But not deadly. So why the big deal? Why do people (especially women) hide the fact that they pick boogers? Is it so much better holding up a tissue and discharging with a powerful blow? Then you’re stuck with a thin piece of paper loaded up with snots.

Personally, I think picking a nose is significantly less offensive than:

1. Farting.

2. Burping.

3. A runny nose that drips into the soup.

4. Toe cheese.

5. Bad breath.

6. Cottage cheese.

But humanity has decided nose picking is taboo.

So it’s taboo.

And I sit here, alone. Me and my empty nostril.

So sad.