drastically altered and we find now veritable fraternity houses as the standard famuly unit. What about femini- nity? Men miss it terribly. It isn't just sex hunger, but spiritual hunger as well. Some half-hearted attempts are made to keep a vase with flowers on the dining room table. At putting up pretty curtains. At spreading that magic, cheerful softness only girls knew how to spark and sustain.

At this point in our story (and I'm sure you are way ahead of me) the TV makes his triumphant appearance in this dying society. He becomes the standard bearer of femininity. He alone knows how to keep it alive. Every household feels proud, and considers itself lucky, to have a TV in their midst. The clicking of high heels, which had practically disappeared is heard once again in apartments and sidewalks. The manufacturers of cosmetics and perfumes have at least some customers to take care of. Long hair for TV is now urged and extolled. Lovely prints in silks and satins are again seen in the store windows and even beauty parlors begain to reopen their doors in every city. It is certainly nice to have TV's around to keep the memory of GG's alive. An imitation true, but better than nothing at all. Their presence is welcomed by most but, (and here the plot thickens) there are also those who hate TV's simply because they bring memories of bygone days. They see in Tv's, nothing but cruel tantalizers, a mockery of something intensely desired but hopelessly out of reach. The TV haters embark in a merciless campaign against TV's. The campaign erupts in violence and TV lives are lost in the struggle. (There ought to be loads of action in these chapters!!) The climax is reached when suddenly a radio blares forth a sensational bulletin: "A baby-girl has been born this moring in Rochester, New York!" Hope returns, mankind is saved and TV's conquer recognition. ( I guess the mysterious effects of the nuclear fall-out have worn off by now- or else we, humans have built up a resistance against it.) what led me to dream up this plot was the fact that I was sick and tired of the doting mother who dresses up the boy, or the domineering aunt who takes pleasure in forcing the kid into feminine finery. This seems to be the only plot that can be conceived in reguard to trans- vestism. I'm sure you've read that stupid sequence a million times.

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