The previously-moribund Naked Protesters site appears to be rising from the dead; they’ve begun posting some of the recent crop of nude activist photos, such as this one:

You’ve doubtless heard of the Polar Bear Club, that group of (usually) middle-aged-guys who go out on New Year’s Day (or some other suitable midwinter day), cut a hole in the ice, and jump into the hole (extra points for nekkidness). This phenomenon seems to happen anywhere that’s suitably wintry (Nome, Siberia, Minnesota) but the further north you get, the more participants seem to turn up.

Without further ado, then. They are not all middle-aged guys. This is the prettiest Polar Bear Club member I’ve ever seen:

From Sexoteric.

Artist Ursula Vernon has new ideas about tampon marketing:

She explains:

I am female.

I am not girly. I am desperately ungirly. I look good in pink, but I feel guilty about it. For various reasons, I would sooner belly-crawl through broken glass than buy anything marketed “for girls!” or “for women!” And I resent the fact that feminine products have me, as it were, by the short hairs in this regard.

And so, a year or so ago, I decided that I wanted a new brand of tampon. Something that was not girly, that was not pastel, that did not have flowers, and which did not make my ovaries curl up and die of shame. I do not mind having a period–I’d rather not, but eh, goes with the territory–but I detest the marketing.

It’s time for a rugged new brand. A brand no one will ever call “girly.” A brand you can take to the checkout counter and meet the clerk’s eye while you buy it, and if they say a word, you have ’em tied to the mast and flogged.

Blackbeard the Pirate’s Rugged Tampons. A product you can trust, from a name you can’t!

Ah, and now — after my link tip post below — the fruits of one of the triggering tips. Frank from OMG Blog sent me a Helena Christensen nude spread tip. Turns out Helena Christensen is not (presumably) his girlfriend; she’s a “former supermodel”. Whatever, she’s pretty and she’s nude:

Thanks, Frank!

Here’s a little tip for folks sending me link tips. In the last week I’ve gotten a handful in this format:

[Female Name I’ve Never Heard Of] nude photos: {link}

To which my reaction is: “What, is she your girlfriend or something?”

Typically I don’t even bother to click. I’m not a celeb watcher, I don’t read People, I don’t know who Baby SueMe is or why she’s got twenty pages in Vanity Fair (I heard that on CNN while failing to click past Larry King fast enough).

There are people nominated for Oscars that I’ve never heard of. Their names won’t even get a “What, isn’t she some kind of actress?” from me. When it comes to modern celebrity culture, I’m clueless.

So here’s the tip: If you want to send me a link tip like this, make sure you include a hook. Say: “Nude pictures of So-and-So, you know, the girl who got caught with Meatloaf on the observation deck of the Space Needle wearing nothing but a latex bra.”

Random photo from the very large image collection, featuring bondage and foot licking:

I actually know some folks who attend “foot washing” events, but they claim it’s a religious thing (emulating Jesus) and not a fetish thing. I suppose skepticism on my part would seem churlish. In any case, I don’t think they do it the way the girl in the photo does it.

Here (from Damp Silk) is a loving tale of a wife who discovered the fantasy her husband was oh-so-secretly exploring on the internet and (rather than freaking out) set out to fulfill it:

My husband has a secret fantasy life. I’m absolutely serious. Oh, I know what you’re thinking. Doesn’t every man? Don’t all men want us to be maids in the home, chefs in the kitchen, accountants with the checkbook and whores in the bedroom? Don’t all men fantasize daily about various sorts of interesting sexual things? Yes. Of course they do. But for me, this fantasy was a bit different. Because this one involved . . . the ass.

My husband has had my ass in every way imaginable. He has touched, stroked and caressed, pinched, spanked and paddled, teased, toyed and tongued, poked, prodded and probed and quite frankly royally fucked that object of his obsession. He has taken me, and my ass, to new heights of delight. If my ample cheeks were the focus of his interest, it was certainly fine with me. But, as I soon discovered, it wasn’t my ass he was interested in. It was his own!

I discovered this accidentally one evening. I was reading emails, deleting junk, and catching up with private messages. Unexpectedly I accessed a secret account; apparently he’d forgotten to log out after he checked his own mailbox. I found several messages from ladies he’d recently chatted with. They discussed their talks in intimate detail, very sexually explicit. We both enjoy sexy chat, so that didn’t concern me, but the topic was a bit startling, and it both shocked and aroused me. My man, tall and large, mustached and muscular, wanted to be fucked in his ass.

…

Should I pretend I never saw the account? No. Not a chance. Should I confront angrily or tearfully, which could potentially cause a big fight resulting in him hiding more secrets from me? Also not an option for me. Hmmm. This could become a serious problem in our marriage if not handled properly.

As I am a self-starter, and somewhat of a devious gal, I embark upon the only choice available to me. I go shopping. But not to the mall, oh no. I head to the naughty bookstore, with its wide assortment of marital aids. It’s time to fulfill a fantasy. Yummy. I’m on a mission!