Anyway, when a new ad for my site is sold, BlogAds sends me an e-mail so that I can approve or disapprove the ad. Guess what? I'm so far behind on my e-mail I hardly ever even see a fraction of what comes in, and I didn't even realize they'd sold this ad until I saw it at the top of the page. Should I reject Pamela Anderson nude? Well, I'd hate to hurt her feelings . . .
My opposition to artificial pectoral enhancement is well-known -- though not as well-known as Nigel Horne's syphilis. In general, my preference is for altogether natural mammaries, Track-a-'Crat's hot wife notwithstanding.
Whether they're AAs or DDs, ladies, stick with what the good lord gave ya. To do otherwise is as unnatural as . . . uh, same-sex marriage.In fact, many readers will remember that I was the first to notice Carrie Prejean's breast implants, an unnecessary augmentation that I blame on Shanna Moakler nude.
Unlike New York Times porn expert Ross Douthat, I don't spend all my time Googling for pornographic photos of sexy women like Bea Arthur nude. Today is my 50th birthday -- hit the tip jar -- and I'm well past the age where my time and energy should be squandered on a perpetual quest for concupiscent arousal.
Yet my appreciation of pulchritude is not in any way diminished, but rather sublimated into an aesthetic admiration. This paragraph is illustrated by Bouguereau's Baigneuse because, like an artist beholding the Androrran Pyrenees, I cherish the beauty without feeling any compulsion to scale the peaks, as it were. And if, in the pursuit of Rule 5, we occasionally celebrate the creature, this is in no way intended to disrespect the Creator.
For more than 20 years, I have been married to the original Sexy Lady, the Rule 5 Hot Mama, Mrs. Other McCain. My wonderful wife has occasionally been offended that I sometimes portray her as insanely jealous.
However, as I often explain to friends, Mrs. Other McCain flatters me by imagining that I'm still the irresistible Speedo-worthy stud she married in 1989 -- every woman's secret desire -- and if my lovely bride ever thought otherwise, she'd probably lose interest in me. So it's important to our marital happiness that my friends help me maintain the illusion that when I walk into a D.C. reception, it's like the Beatles landing at JFK in February 1964. Well, what does any of this have to do with Pamela Anderson's fake breasts? Why is there an Anne Hathaway sideboob photo next to this paragraph? And why are you tempted to click on that picture? Allow me to suggest that it is normal and healthy to prefer that which is natural to that which is artificial.
While I do not necessarily endorse Miss Hathaway's indecorous display, she does permit us to observe that, when gravity is permitted to exercise its force upon the natural equipage, the effect is by no means unflattering. This is a quality which (sources say) connoisseurs of the phenomenon describe as sagalicious.
You ladies ought not cheat yourselves of the opportunity to become sagalicious. Nor should men let themselves be so entranced by pornography as to become habituated to artificially globular silicone-enhanced boobage. Perversity is addictive. Just ask Roman Polanski.
Today is my 50th birthday and my bride, still a sprightly 45, has invited me to dinner this evening. In extending this invitation, she remarked that there are some things she's never done with a 50-year-old man. Let's all hope she will avail herself of the opportunity in the very near future, thus to help me continue in the necessary belief that I am still every woman's secret desire.
And you definitely should hit the tip jar. Chicks dig a guy with a big tip jar. Who knows? I might get lucky. UPDATE: Thanks for the happy birthday Rule 2 links from known associates Obi's Sister, Daley Gator, Pat Austin, Rhetorican, Jimmie Bise, and Honesty in Motion. Also thanks for those who hit the tip jar, including Adriane in Glendale, Mike in Orlando, CH in San Mateo and sagalicious Shana in Alabama.