Folks, I wanna tell you a story about an American hero, a man who has put himself on the line time and time again to alert the women of New York, Union Square specifically, that they are under constant threat from discreetly salivating men who have developed voyeurism from a compulsive disorder to a fine craft. Our hero, Normal Bob Smith, who appears to be a cartoonist and designer, has been documenting the various denizens of Union Square for some time. Aside from the predictable presence of Skaters, Scenesters (a.k.a.: Hipsters), Junkies, a Free Hugs guy, and Bums, Mr. Smith has chronicled the activities of men he calls “Peepers”. Whether acting alone or aiding each other in clandestine groups, Peepers are men who hang around and wait for skirt-wearing women to take a seat on the steps of the Square. Thanks to the high likelihood that their sitting position will provide a line of sight that leads directly to their lower undergarments, these Peepers avail themselves of a salacious free show while the performer, as it were, remains blissfully unaware and continues to chat with a friend, attempt a new Angry Birds high score, or sip on a decaf mocha. Enter Normal Bob Smith, the ever vigilant sentinel of women’s virtue.
On his Amazing Strangers website, Smith has provided readers and potential victims with a graphic guide to the behavior of the common Union Square Peeper. In detailing their usual locations, strategies, and numerous methods used to avoid detection, Smith has not only provided a valuable public service to the women of New York City, he has managed to coin a handful of choice terms in the process. “The Peep,” he tells, “is the actual trail of Peeper’s peeping up the skirt to the panties.” The invisible path projecting from the skirt or The Peep sitting on the steps is called a “Live Zone.” The most fascinating element of Peeper methodology – and, if you were to ask a Peeper, the most difficult to perfect – is what Smith has dubbed “The MACMA: Make-believe Acting Casually Milling About.” MACMAs include such apparently everyday tasks as talking on the phone, reading a map, taking in the surroundings, and taking vacation snaps; or at least appearing to. Peepers, you see, merely pretend to perform these innocent activities as a cover for their peeping, leaving their victims unsuspecting and unaware that their panties are providing anywhere from one to six, sometimes even seven men (depending on the Live Zone and the cooperation between Peepers) with material to augment their continual games of Pocket Pool; that is, the discreet fondling of one’s own testicles (and possibly penis) via trouser pockets.
You might think Normal Bob Smith something of a hero, but, folks, you don’t know the half of it! Stick around as Mr. Pink reveals Smith’s own covert Peeper-peeping techniques and catches the most dastardly Peeper of all, the Picture Peeper.
