The Rumble Strips on the Highway to You-Know-Where

The world has always needed prudes.

It has needed prudes to tell it to play fairly with others.

To not take what doesn’t belong to it.

To stop talking behind the backs of others, to chew with its mouth closed,

to not use such dreadful language.

The world needs a prude at its elbow to let it know when it is getting too big for its britches.

And speaking of britches, the prudes will gauge when the britches need to be less baggy or more loose so as not to reveal what shouldn’t be revealed.

We prudes like to think of ourselves as the rumble strips on the highway to you-know-where.

We can’t stop the world from tearing along Naughtiness Lane but we can make the trip a lot less comfortable.

I like to think of myself as your personal Prude. Not that you need one. You seem like a well-behaved bunch.

I want to provide a place for prudes to rally. To encourage each other. To know that, although prudes seem to be a tiny portion of the populace, we serve a vital function.

Who else will monitor clothing choices, points of etiquette, salty language, and general contrariness?

So, although the Prude will be taking a break until the Monday after Easter, she plans to return, Lord willing, with a whole new gaggle of disapprovals. And, because you are pretty fabulous, she hopes you do too.